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I haven't picked up my big camera in a long time to document my kids. I kind of lost the desire to see through that lens for awhile. I needed simplicity. I needed my phone to be my lens so I didn't have to think about composure, aperture, shutter speed or light while capturing our memories. There was so much going on in my head, I needed simplicity. I needed to rest the camera for a season.

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But tonight I felt that old familiar itch. While my kids were playing in the backyard, the light stirred my heart. I ran in the house and grabbed my camera, and began to shoot. I resisted my kids posing at first. I just wanted to capture them playing, and being them. But posing for the camera and goofing off for the lens is really who they are. So I just let them be. They posed a bit, but then gave me a beautiful gift. They began to really be themselves, and laugh and interact the way I want to remember them years from now. The little faces that Calais makes, that are so expressive and sassy; Cosette's joy at getting to hug her sisters and bounce, and her dandelion hair; Cassidy's confidence, and yet vulnerability; Cooper being sulky, moody and thoughtful. Even the dirt, and the mess, and the scrapes are details I want to be able freeze in time.

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I spent the last couple of years trying to get out of the fog that was dulling my senses and keeping me from really feeling and living life. As the dull and the fog has been clearing, I've picked up my camera more, but mostly for other people. I used to download the images I'd take, and have to leave them untouched on the computer for days before I could look at them with anything but disdain for the imperfection in my work. I was, and will probably always be my hardest critic.

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Lately, though, I've enjoyed the process of photography so much more. I don't have anything to prove. I don't have to create a masterpiece with every photograph, and I don't beat myself up if that doesn't happen. I just want to capture another person in a moment of time, to document a slice of who they are from my unique perspective. And my perspective is imperfect, but it is mine. Now, I can often look at a series of photographs fresh from my camera, and quickly decide what I like, and ignore the rest. I can recognize that missed shots happen, and that every composition is not going to be perfect. I can also more easily recognize the good in what I have captured. I can see the beauty in the imperfection, and let it be enough.

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I'm still working on doing that with myself each day. I still have to remind myself that I'm enough, and that the imperfection will always be there so there really is no point in dwelling on it. I'm learning to give myself, and by extension, those around me a little more grace. Some days are very hard, and I slip back into old habits. But I recognize that I'm slipping much more quickly, and make little changes to get back on track. I forgive myself for the imperfections, and simply try again each day.

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The funny thing is, those things are what initially drew me to photography, and made me fall in love with the craft. Imperfection in a photograph can actually enhance the story being told. The play of light and dark, blur and motion, even exposure can be manipulated to bring out details or help them fade away. For too long, fear of imperfection kept me from enjoying life, and it kept me from taking photographs. Embracing imperfection, and giving myself grace was what I needed to enjoy both again.

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Price001.jpg
I haven't picked up my big camera in a long time to document my kids. I kind of lost the desire to see through that lens for awhile. I needed simplicity. I needed my phone to be my lens so I didn't have to think about composure, aperture, shutter speed or light while capturing our memories. There was so much going on in my head, I needed simplicity. I needed to rest the camera for a season.

Price002.jpgPrice003.jpg
But tonight I felt that old familiar itch. While my kids were playing in the backyard, the light stirred my heart. I ran in the house and grabbed my camera, and began to shoot. I resisted my kids posing at first. I just wanted to capture them playing, and being them. But posing for the camera and goofing off for the lens is really who they are. So I just let them be. They posed a bit, but then gave me a beautiful gift. They began to really be themselves, and laugh and interact the way I want to remember them years from now. The little faces that Calais makes, that are so expressive and sassy; Cosette's joy at getting to hug her sisters and bounce, and her dandelion hair; Cassidy's confidence, and yet vulnerability; Cooper being sulky, moody and thoughtful. Even the dirt, and the mess, and the scrapes are details I want to be able freeze in time.

Price004.jpgPrice005.jpg
I spent the last couple of years trying to get out of the fog that was dulling my senses and keeping me from really feeling and living life. As the dull and the fog has been clearing, I've picked up my camera more, but mostly for other people. I used to download the images I'd take, and have to leave them untouched on the computer for days before I could look at them with anything but disdain for the imperfection in my work. I was, and will probably always be my hardest critic.

Price006.jpgPrice008.jpgPrice007.jpg
Lately, though, I've enjoyed the process of photography so much more. I don't have anything to prove. I don't have to create a masterpiece with every photograph, and I don't beat myself up if that doesn't happen. I just want to capture another person in a moment of time, to document a slice of who they are from my unique perspective. And my perspective is imperfect, but it is mine. Now, I can often look at a series of photographs fresh from my camera, and quickly decide what I like, and ignore the rest. I can recognize that missed shots happen, and that every composition is not going to be perfect. I can also more easily recognize the good in what I have captured. I can see the beauty in the imperfection, and let it be enough.

Price009.jpg
Price010.jpg
Price011.jpg
Price020.jpgPrice022.jpg
I'm still working on doing that with myself each day. I still have to remind myself that I'm enough, and that the imperfection will always be there so there really is no point in dwelling on it. I'm learning to give myself, and by extension, those around me a little more grace. Some days are very hard, and I slip back into old habits. But I recognize that I'm slipping much more quickly, and make little changes to get back on track. I forgive myself for the imperfections, and simply try again each day.

Price012.jpg
Price013.jpgPrice014.jpgPrice015.jpgPrice016.jpgPrice017.jpgPrice018.jpg
The funny thing is, those things are what initially drew me to photography, and made me fall in love with the craft. Imperfection in a photograph can actually enhance the story being told. The play of light and dark, blur and motion, even exposure can be manipulated to bring out details or help them fade away. For too long, fear of imperfection kept me from enjoying life, and it kept me from taking photographs. Embracing imperfection, and giving myself grace was what I needed to enjoy both again.

Price023.jpgPrice024.jpg



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