Scratching the surface series - Leonard

I'm not trying to be a do gooder like Angelina Jolie. I'm not trying to get scoop for a story like a news hungry journalist. I'm just trying to make a small difference in what may seem a very insignificant way.

Sometimes, especially elders, just want company. Don't we all? A simple conversation. Someone who asks how you are doing. When was the last time someone asked you how your day was and really meant it? I try to be mindful of this as we all have tendencies to go on and on and on about ourselves, our woes, our whines and our wants.

Meet Leonard Foley.

Have you ever noticed when speaking with an elder, that when they introduce themselves, they always include their first and last name? No matter their life circumstance, there seems to be a sense of pride when they say their full name. This seemed to be the case with Leonard.

I found Leonard at a local Salvation Army hostel and we got to chatting about both life and nothing at all really. I had a packed lunch with me but it's kind of awkward and assuming to approach someone and say something like "Hey, you look like you need a sandwich."  Nevertheless, when I offered my lunch to him, he said in the sweetest voice that a sandwich sounded really good.

I got the sense that Leonard was younger than he looked. His tobacco stained hands reminded me of my own father whom I would see many years later. Growing up, my dad was a handsome man. He drove beautiful cars and unfortunately for my mom, was a real ladies man. His life choices eventually caught up with him and I would years later see him at my University graduation and I barely recognized the man. His trim physique was replaced with the belly of a man unkempt, a nose of a drunk and a cigarette stained moustache. The reckless years had caught up with ol' Wayne. There was one difference I saw in Leonard's eyes when he spoke of a wife and children. His eyes seemed filled with regret and sorrow. He said that he lived a lonely life and that nobody really comes to visit him. He said if he one day got his act together, he might be able to get his family back. I don't think my own father has any sense of regret about anything. He can join Michael's dad and their life's actions to keep them company.

Leonard was keen on the idea of getting his picture taken. We had a short chat and I asked him if he had someone to spend Christmas with, and I think I had pushed too far. He took his sandwich, thanked me for my time and wished me a Merry Christmas and shut the front door of the hostel.

That sandwich may have been a small gesture. The conversation certainly wasn't much. But judging by the lonely tone in Leonard's voice, these two things were probably the highlight of his day. The neat thing about life is that with one small act of kindness, you really could make someone feel important. We are all humans and we all want to matter.

So maybe, in the hurried dash of the daily grind, you too could take the time to ask someone something small about themselves. Or bring them a sandwich. Or ask them how they are doing.

And how was your day?

Love,

Wendy

Upcoming projects

It's the off wedding season so Michael and I were a bit worried about business but as it seems in photography, there always seems to be people who want photographs taken (aren't we in a recession?)

Michael is busy switching over his blog to Wordpress which will generate more revenue for us from the advertisements. His readership is up to almost 150,000 viewers per month worldwide which is amazing. His venture to Washington for the food blogger conference has opened different avenues for him in regards to one day creating and publishing his own cookbook.

We are both opening up a store on Etsy to sell photographs of our work; his food photos and my art.
Michael is also looking into starting a freelance food photography business with his main clients being restaurants for their websites and menus.

I've been asked to consider a job working with the Heart and Stroke foundation for their campaign of Make Death Wait where I would interview and photograph young survivors. This goes hand in hand with my Scratching the surface series where I want to dig deeper into people's lives, troubles and stories.

I have been so fortunate to meet amazing photographers this year. I will be editing for some amazing GTA photographers and soaking up as much knowledge as I can for various editing styles. We have registered for some in depth lighting courses and I have made a very special contact in California who is going to be my mentor over Skype courses.

My grant with Enterprise Brant is finished in July so that will free up some time for me in terms of working on my business plan, forecasts and attending entrepreneur seminars.

Last year was absolutely crazy and I loved it. I said yes to absolutely everything and am thankful for all the opportunities that came my way. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I want to try and do less this year, but with more thought, and give each client a hand crafted experience, service and final product that is treated more like a piece of fine art than just a bunch of snapshots.

Weddings of course will always be our main focus. They require the most time and energy and we absolutely love working with our clients before, during and of course after the wedding is over. We have made some incredible friends who have continued to hire us on to document  their life's events as they unfold. We've got four months until wedding season kicks in full force again so I'm planning to use it wisely.

There was a time when I truly didn't believe in myself or my abilities but I now know, that hard work and listening to my heart, coupled with being real, honest, raw and truthful will get me far. What you see is what you get with me and I've been fortunate enough to attract likeminded clients. You truly can't fail if you never give up.

Thank you for all your support.

Love,

Wendy

Change and routine.

I had a nice two hour conversation with one of my brides turned friend today. We got to talking about the difficulty of adapting to change. Humans are programmed to reject and baulk at anything different that either comes their way or gets forced upon them. Even when change is self inflicted, it's not always easy to adjust.

I remember when I was all packed and ready to make the move from my childhood home to the big smoke of downtown Toronto. I took one final glance at my empty room. Back then, forest green and dusty rose were the must have color palette. I took a mental snapshot, as if to remind myself that I would never again be sleeping in this room. The room of many tears and heartache. The room of teenage arguments with my mom about curfew. The room of late night phone conversations and sleepovers with my girlfriends. The room of exam studying, prom preparation and little girl memories.

Years later, my mom remarried, moved out and I went back to see my old room which had been converted into a spare bedroom. It seemed smaller than I remembered but the memories amidst those four walls came flooding back. And then it was time to leave again.

I moved several times throughout the course of my life. Each move brought upon new memories, new challenges and new adventures. When I was renting, I never quite felt settled. I never bought grown up furniture because I never knew where I would be living next and if it would fit the Toronto shoe box sized condos. When I met Michael, I knew I was ready to move closer to where I grew up. I knew he was a keeper when he had no qualms of moving closer to my mom. He in fact insisted that we check out Brantford; a city I would never have otherwise considered.

Many of my European friends have never left their family home until the eve of their wedding. They find it difficult and overwhelming to adjust to the decrescendo of their wedding events, their new spouse and often times a brand new residence. Believe it or not, there are still some old fashioned couples that choose to move in together after they are married. I think that is wonderful and traditional. Family is so important and often cases as we get older, we have parents or grandparents living with us.

I'm so fiercely independent and I love my alone time so I have often questioned why people who could be living full time in their own home, choose to spend so much time away from it. I have had the time to dig deeper, as my new Scratching the surface series has suggested, and understand that change is sometimes harder for some than others. Sometimes people have to be eased in. Take time to adjust and form a routine. Routine is something that happens several times before it feels programmed and natural.
And then, as sure as anything, a different form of change shall happen and the previous change you struggled with somehow now seems familiar and comforting.

I myself have a hard time dealing with change. I love my routines. When a website layout changes without notice, I hate it. When I leave a job or even worse, when a colleague leaves, my heart pangs.
The worst is when someone is taken away from us and we have no choice to accept that change. Sometimes we are so busy that we don't even take the time to notice what we have when we have it, and it's only when it's gone that we are saddened. And then, just like that, one day melts into the other, a year has passed and life continues to unfold; whether we like it or not.

Change makes us stronger. Change makes us wiser, cultured, and broadens our knowledge base.
Change is inevitable. I think this is why I love photographs so very much. Sometimes all we need is a little reminder of what was and continues to be, albeit sometimes in a different form. Like marriage and family, where the natural progression is moving from the familial to the matrimonial home, there is nothing that says making that transition can't be a little easier with frequent visits, occasional sleepovers and of course pictures to always remind us where and whom we came from.

Home will always be home, no matter how you define it, where you live or who you live with.

Change, and routine.

Love,

Wendy

Scratching the surface - series

I was out for dinner and drinks Friday night with a group of my wonderful girlfriends. We were snapping photos of ourselves and I think each one of us complained about the way we looked in them. All around the table sat our I-phones, cameras, gadgets and after a discussion about the crazy direction this world is going, I commented to my friends about the shallow nature of conversations and media. Weight loss, plastic surgery, teeth whitening, tanning, are at the forefront of this out of control, perfection-obsessed culture. If we are headed in the direction of that god awful movie "Simone", I'm not sure I want to tread on.

In my industry especially, the more beautiful the subject, the easier it makes the photographer's job. Sites like Model Mayhem allow aspiring models to get their photograph taken and amateur photographers a chance to practice shooting models. Perfect trade off. The problem is, so what? We all love to look at beautiful photos. I love to shoot beautiful weddings and gorgeous details. The problem with all these images though, and I can attest as a bride a couple of years ago, is making the correlation between real and fantasy.

I've decided to shoot a series called "Scratching the surface" where I photograph real people with real problems and lives and document it in photo and prose. Although I love the photojournalistic style of shooting unknowing subjects, I am a writer first, photographer second. A small interview and photo session allows me to, exactly as the name suggests, just scratch the surface of somebody we all make assumptions about, but never take the time to dig deeper.

Meet Barry. I had the pleasure of being acquainted with this wonderful soul when I second shot a wedding a few hours north of here. Barry is the proud owner of a magical estate and a gorgeous fairytale property that sends  the imagination in a tailspin of what used to and could also be. I had visions of Great Gatsby inspired parties of grandeur. I saw Barry manicuring his hedges, on a 40 degree July afternoon, with a kitchen knife and a pair of scissors. His face and hands looked worn, his eyes kind and tired.
He looked slightly hesitant when I asked if I could photograph the inside of his beautiful home.

He was evasive about his story. He declined my request to purchase a piece of furniture for my collection. There were seven fireplaces, I counted a few pianos, endless amounts of settees and chairs draped in heavy luxurious fabric. As my eyes darted around quickly, I was trying to size up his story. There were so many books about music. Even more books about Physicians and surgery. Who was this  man? What was his life like? What memories were made in this home?

There was an aroma in the air of past wealth and glory that had since been replaced with the smell of a hard working and dishevelled gentleman. I waved goodbye, gave Barry a hug and he grinned with his toothless smile and kind eyes reminding me to come back again for any type of photo shoot I had in mind. This hidden treasure has been the host of small weddings and the only thing Barry requests, is enough of a donation to pay hired help to cut the grass on the sprawling property.

When I entered the property, it was Barry who met me. You could tell he worked hard by the marks on his hands, with cuts and scars to prove it. His clothes were tattered and worn yet he was proud and friendly and happy to share his property. The first thoughts that popped in my head quickly faded away after talking to him. There was more to this man than the clothes on his back and the large estate he inherited. He had a story to tell, only nobody to share it with. His mother was long gone, leaving behind the property and the countless stories that went with it. He had a voice and someone finally ready to hear it.

Barry is the kind of person I hope to meet on this new journey. Someone too shy or scared to tell their story. Someone with a dream and hopes like the rest of us but lacking the wherewithal to find it. With some work and a bit of luck, I know I'll be able to find someone else like Barry to share an afternoon with for a little conversation, a listening ear and a couple of no fuss simple photographs. A gentle, lost soul looking to shine.

Love,

Wendy

Following your dreams, and a clean kitchen sink.

Yesterday I went on strike. Michael and I had a small argument in the morning about time management. I swear sometimes it is like bribing a child to get out of bed and get off to school. In fairness to him, we never seem to stop and when he finally falls into our sanctuary of a comfortable bed, he's out cold and down for the count. In the morning, I try and gently wake him up. It goes in stages. It starts out with a gentle shake, the aroma of a hot cup of coffee I've made him. Then, I send the dog up to greet him. I turn the fan off as that is what puts us into our deep sleep. As time goes on, the awakening gets more gruelling. The lights are blinding and switched on. I turn my hairdryer on full blast until he is so annoyed that he finally wakes up. Then, he'll dilly dally around the house. So, I've tried something else as of late. I figured if we could get up and out of the house to walk the dog, this would help wake him. It only made him more sour. We started the day off in an argument and my knee was killing me. I decided to go on strike from cleaning the house yesterday. When he came home from work, he was mortified to find out that he had to work all day, make dinner and clean the mess that he made. I got bored of being silent and gave into his snuggle demands. We made up. And I awoke to the stinky smell of leftover fish left on the counter all night. The kitty I'm sure had a feast while we slept the night away.

I sent him a text today and let him know the strike was over. I told him he was lucky he had a wife who couldn't stand to a) stay mad at her husband and b) leave a dirty house for longer than a day. He called me back and said he was smiling from ear to ear and that he realized how much I did around the house.

I spent four hours this morning cleaning the house from top to bottom. I blasted the new Coldplay album through all of our speakers in the house. When I was smelly and finished, I took a long hot bath and came downstairs to fix myself some lunch. I marvelled at my clean kitchen sink. We all have our own idiosyncrasies, but mine is leftover crumbs or food in the sink. It is not clean unless it is clean and free of junk and stinky dishrags. That is just who I am. A clean freak. Or some may just say, just a freak. Either way, this represents a small bit of my happiness.

When I quit my job, we were both worried, although Michael often commented on the fact that he loved coming home from work to a clean house and a smiling and stress free wife. When I started my business plan with Enterprise Brant, one of the the first things they told the room full of new entrepreneurs is that if you're a perfectionist, you better learn to get over that quickly. Running a business always takes the forefront and things like a social life or a clean house will have to give. Something always has to give, right?

I'm going somewhere with this. Please give me a chance.

I'm not sure if it's the time of year, a closing of a period of time that allows people to reflect on their joys, struggles and triumphs and make such exclamations such as "next year has to be better." I've been recently contacted by so many people.....friends, strangers, clients and fellow photographers giving me props for quitting my job and following my dream. I wish it was that simple. It sounds wonderful when read and written like that. Giving up unhappiness for happiness. Life should be swell, right?

It is, mostly.

This year we had to make some hard decisions. Should I pay my house taxes or buy a new lens that I really needed to rock that dimly lit wedding? I needed to pay my car repairs but didn't have enough money to do so that day. The problem was, I needed my car to get to Toronto, to pick up my deposit from my bride, to pay for my brakes but as you know, you can't buy now, pay later in the service industry. Fortunately my kind hearted mechanic let me go a day to pay him (which may I add, I did so promptly the next morning, coffees in hand and an extremely sincere "thank you".)

I had some meltdowns at weddings, albeit private in the washroom (I would NEVER let a client see me stress) and even writing about it worries me a bit, but it's important for me for future clients to know that no matter what is going on in my personal emotional state, you will get the shots you paid for. Whenever I feel like this, I am reminded (and sometimes reminded gently by my loving husband) that the day is not at all about us and we must put whatever stress, fatigue, hunger and ego aside to make the couple's day go as smoothly as possible. I have learned that I am resourceful. Weddings put you immediately into survival mode. Everything possible that could go wrong usually does and you have to be prepared for ANY situation whether it's lighting, weather or equipment malfunction. You have to play fair with other vendors or photographers and find ways to work together without competing, yet still ensuring you get the shots you want to. At the end of the day, as long as the couple gets the shot, it's a win but let's face it, we all want to be the one to get "the" shots. The shots that last only seconds like the first kiss, the walk down the aisle, the running outside as the newly married couple. Those moments cannot be redone. Note...even though I may be having a meltdown, you will NEVER know it....see? We were testing our lighting here and I was choking back tears because my camera was NOT cooperating....it all worked out. All smiles on your day from Wendy Alana Photography.

I've often thought of quitting photography. I'm a quitter; a runner. I run from fear, failure and frustration. Well, I used to anyways. Now I use those emotions to fuel me. My clients this year have paid minimal fees with the knowledge that I was new and unsure of myself. They only cared about the final images, not how I got there. In a sense, I feel like I've learned to run before I even started crawling. I've met some terrible assholes in this industry but I've also met some extremely talented and helpful people who selflessly build me up when I am feeling down, help me with my technical questions and most of these people I have never even met in person. To you, Rachelle, Silvanna, Jasmine, Scarlett, Natalie, Kathy, Adam, Annie, Janette, Cristina,  Tyson, Melissa, Jill, Jesse, Liz and Tonya...you have each answered my questions, given me guidance and helped me along the way and it will honestly never be forgotten. I hope one day I too can help out if asked. A special thanks to Mary who started out as my wedding planner, turned friend and now turned colleague who pushed me forward in this creative direction. At the risk of sounding like I'm making some sort of award speech, I also have to thank my patient husband, my family and friends and of course clients who have taken a risk on someone new when even I didn't believe in myself. You trusted me to capture the most important moments in your lives. You have no idea and you could never know just how grateful I am for your leap of faith.

After last weekend's wedding and almost a 24 hour day, we were physically and emotionally dead. I booked Michael and I a 90 minute massage. I warned the bubbly masseuse that we probably were going to need quiet time to unwind. She politely obliged and after an hour into my heavenly massage, we got to chatting about life and spirituality. We talked about fear, passion, hatred. She told me that any other voice in my head that was anything but positive is the ego and bullshit. She said it is the inner child who is afraid but it is the adult who can take that fear and do something about it. She asked me about evil people and quipped: who needs love more? Hitler or Mother Teresa? I pondered this for a few days and  decided that our haters need our love the most, because they are the ones who are the saddest inside.

All of this has a point. The point is, we can all live our lives unhappy if we so choose. I truly believe that a chain of events got me to where I am today. A series of unfortunate or should I say misfortunate events followed me during my ten years of living in Toronto; some self inflicted, others by sheer accident. After that, just when I met Michael and I thought things were moving in the right direction,  I went through a terrible harassment case at work. I planned two weddings, we bought a house, I started a new job. My aunt died. I hated my job and the people around me. Michael's Addison's disease was flaring up. We were stressed about money. I was crumbling. My Sunday nights were filled with dread at the thought of going to my beige cubicle. I cried for no reason. I lost sleep over nasty people and their nasty ways. My aunt's death, albeit tragic to our family, was really a wake up call for me and my life and how I chose to live it. We all have a pivotal moment in our life that we can honestly say we remember the day, the moment, the minute everything changed.

I went to my Doctor, I told her about my anxiety, my inability to keep my emotions in check, the fact that I was crying over nothing and everything. The fact that I wanted to crawl into a hole at most social functions. I told her about the things going on in my life. I will never forget what she said to me. She said to me, sometimes, it's not the fact that you're depressed, it's just that you're around assholes. Sometimes, removing yourself from the hostile environment is enough to make you feel better.

I still don't know if it was the pills, quitting my job, divorcing the assholes in my life or a combination of all three but I know that it feels that photography found me. I often muse that if I had found this passion years ago, during my dark and down years, the masterpieces I could have created by pouring my heart into an artistic craft such as writing or photography. I still wonder how I made it out alive.
But here I am. And I'm here to tell you it wasn't easy. It isn't easy. But I'm living the life I was meant to be living.

Sure, I work three times as hard as I ever did at any desk job. Sure, I've had some tantrums and meltdowns that have felt like I was going to have a full blown heart attack. But here I am. And here you are writing me daily about how you don't know me but we have shared some tears together, or I've inspired you to write a blog, or just live your life with the passion you used to have when you had bounce in your step as a young teenager full of hopes and dreams.

I've said it before. Where there is a void in the world, and you have a talent that people respond to...this is what you are meant to do. Whether it's a writer or a teacher or a mother or a friend, put your whole heart into it. Never stop dreaming or finding that passion that brings your soul joy and makes you want to leap out of bed on Monday morning and get to work.  If I did it, you can too. Think back in time to the simple things that made you happy. It's funny how I can see distinct moments in my life that brought me to where I am. I used to sit in my office at work and day dream at beautiful images. I would make folders for pretty photos I would see. I would gravitate to old cameras at rummage sales. I never really made a connection, except now in reverie.

I somehow found a way to do what I love, love what I do and have a clean kitchen sink to boot.

And I'm happy. You can be too.  Life is mostly swell. What's your dream? Stop thinking about it and live it. You won't regret it.

Love,

Wendy