I was raised as many things.
Lover of things living and lonely.
The photographer's daughter.
I was always quietly fascinated by my father`s photography. On the morning of a shoot (generally weddings), I could feel the tension. I knew to stay out of the way, but I was drawn to observe, and I still hold snapshots in my mind:
The batteries in the charger in the hall.
Rolls of film in the freezer.
The breeze of Old Spice as he ran by with a backdrop or a light.
My mom (his creative eyes and assistant) in hot rollers and velvet housecoat.
The open silver suitcase with it's exquisite assortment of Hasselblad components.
At times, I accompanied. I eyed the bride and watched my dad work tirelessly; sliding filters behind the lends, adjusting the dress, pausing as my mother readjusted the bouqet. Eventually, I shot simple candids alongside. Just for fun. I was often told I had `the eye` but my focus was on science. I had a far-off dream of being a writer but considering photography was silly. It seemed so saturated already, and I didn't have the audacity to call myself 'an artist'.
Now, twenty-five years later, I`m realizing I've always been far more artist than scientist.
My not-so-secret dream is still writing. And I love the reality of it.
And photography is even more saturated. But that can not stop me from Seeing.
I am an artist.
I have been given eyes and hands to embrace and record beauty.
I am my father`s daughter.
And I'm finally growing up.