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Photography stuffs

Listening, Not Listening

May 1, 2016 by cosmicgirlie Leave a Comment

Jay Emme playing the cello, in Cornwall

I listen too much.

Or, I should amend, I listen to other people too much.

I’m forever losing my own voice, in that, it doesn’t get exhausted; it just doesn’t get used.

I’m in an industry (world) where everyone is shouting. So many opinions, so many thoughts. So much “do this”, loads of “don’t do that”. Back at the end of 2013, I stopped listening to them, and completely listened to myself. Lo and indeed behold, my beloved business brand was born, with a logo I adore, styling I understand, and a business that is me.

All me.

And then I started listening to everyone else again.

And promptly everything died a horrible death, and now I’m having to work pretty fucking hard to pull everything around again.

Stupidly, whilst doing so, I carried on listening to people. I didn’t listen to myself. (Will I ever fucking learn?) And I’m still trying to pick up the pieces, as a result.

It’s my own fault.

Last week saw a turning point. A realisation, if you will, when someone told me a bunch of stuff I should do to fix things. I didn’t respond any further, because I was absolutely fucking livid with them for so many reasons. Contradictory info, mixed messages, questioning things they could never possibly understand at this time, or for a few years down the line.

And then I got pissed off with myself, because I realised I didn’t actually have to listen to them. I didn’t have to listen to anyone. I had been doing so well, for so long, following my instincts, being myself, and doing what worked. And then I got lost, because I stopped fucking listening.

I’m pretty screwed at the moment. I’ve threatened several times over the last few months to quit the business, because I got really fucking lost. And of course, no one else’s suggestions were working. I can’t quit though, and that’s the irony. I can’t quit, because I fucking love this job so much. It’s like a drug. Every time I say “that’s it I’m done, I really don’t think I can keep this going”, I fell the shakes come on, I can’t sleep, and I feel like I’m about to lop off an arm. Which is ridiculous…but it makes perfect sense.

It feels the same as when I quit cello.

(And look what happened there; not only am I playing again, but I’m doing a double cello concerto in concert in 2 months. I’m back in a full symphony orchestra, and lately, not a week goes by where someone doesn’t ask if I’m available to play for an up-coming concert. I couldn’t quit. I’m a shitty quitter.)

I never quit cello.

Just like I couldn’t quit this.

However, it’s time I (inwardly) told everyone else to STFU, and start paying attention to myself, again.

I went to a wedding show recently, to see if there was any prospect for me. After being told that wedding shows wouldn’t be good for me, I sure had my doubts. But I went anyway (because the venue was fucking LUSH.) And from a conversation that started with “oh my days your baby is GORGEOUS!!!” I booked a couple.

They hadn’t even seen my work yet.

I just talked to them. Chatted with them. Talked about their wedding dreams and plans. What they were hoping for. She showed me her dress, he talked about his suit. She showed me photos of her baby, I babbled about traveling the world for weddings.

They hadn’t even seen my work.

When I stop listening to everyone else, and remember WHO I AM, things seem easy again. I forget just how easy things can be when that happens.

Soooooo I’m done listening for a while. Or at least, I’m now going with “Selective Listening”. Because I also seem to have had an influx of people looking for a business coach and life mentor. And they’ve either come to me directly, or been referred to me. So that’s awesome…and it means I go back to remembering how to do the RIGHT kind of listening. The listening where it’s about them, not about me.

There are people who will listen to me, and I love them to bits, and they know who they are. They are literally my immediate family, and I’d be lost without them. But I listen to them, and they don’t tell me what to do. They just…respond to what I say.

Not everyone is asking to be “fixed”. Many people just want to be heard.

I’m one of those people. And that’s really ok with me.

Jay Mountford playing the cello, in Cornwall

Filed Under: Music, Photography stuffs, Thoughts

Kids In The Street

June 18, 2013 by cosmicgirlie 6 Comments

I posted this over on my biz blog today, but realised I wanted it on my “home turf”. Partly because I rarely photograph The Smalls properly, partly because I miss being a kid playing out in the street, partly because I want more photos of The Smalls here, for the future.

And partly to take my mind off a ton of other crap. They do that quite well.

The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613 The Scooting Smalls, 170613

Filed Under: Isaac, Noah, Photography stuffs, The Smalls

Method and Madness

May 2, 2013 by cosmicgirlie 6 Comments

Collection of polaroid prints

“It’s a long way back to Eden, Sweetheart, so don’t sweat the small stuff.”

– Stephen King,  Insomnia

 

Today, The Smalls and I went to go and spend the day round my mom’s house, with my Granddad and Auntie Vie.

Ok, honestly, never even thought I would say those words, let alone type them for all eternity.

I packed a massive bag of food for The Smalls’ lunch and tea, threw all manner of chalk, scooters, bubble mixes, waving wand stick things and other stuff in the boot, and just about every instant film camera I own (with film ready to go) in my car. There was method. I wanted to spend the day and not have to worry about leaving early because I forgot something. I wanted to spend time.

I wanted to take time.

I was shitting it. I was fucking nervous as hell, because I was very aware of Granddad’s deterioration. I knew he wouldn’t be the dude I’d remembered so well from years gone by. I’d already seen how much he had changed in the last few times I had seen him. Both mentally and physically. When I saw him in 2006, he was still climbing trees and very  on the ball. In 2008 he was kind of active and reasonably on the ball. In 2011 I didn’t actually see him move much, but he still seemed on the ball.

Today, in 2013, at my mom’s house, he was nearly immobile and, well, he knew who I was.

That was hard. That was soooooooooo hard.

The dude (yes, dude, because he is/was SUCH a dude) who was sharper than ME most of the time, and more physically active than I could remember, was not there.

Or, he was, but not all the time.

He is now using both my crutches, because his walking stick is not enough. He is in extreme pain moving anywhere. Doing anything.

I have to be realistic and understand, that, he is old. Dude is like, 87 years old EIGHTY SEVEN. He’s nearly seen a WHOLE CENTURY, wtf. Can you imagine carting around nearly 100 years worth of memories? I  can’t.

He struggled to remember that, where he was today, was actually Birmingham and not London (where he spent the majority of his last years in the UK). Actually…looking back on today…that’s nothing. Ok, he kept thinking Noah was in fact called Moses (I bloody love that idea), and didn’t realised for a long time that he had never met Isaac (c’mon; they’re his GREAT GRAND KIDS. That’s a lot of descendants to remember) but…he remembered me without question, he remembered that these boys were his great grandchildren, he remembered I played cello, he remembered random things. So many random things.

Perspective.

I have to remember that.

I didn’t like that he looked so old and frail. Actually, I just didn’t like that he looked so frail. He was wearing a shirt, shorts and a pair of socks, and I couldn’t stop thinking of PUSA’s song Old Man on a Back Porch. It was weird, but he was oddly alert at really random moments, but his body seemed to be letting him down.

So much.

And the odd moment of old age seemed to be letting him down too.

I am tired, and I know that if I ever read this post, it probably won’t make much sense to me. However. Over the last few weeks I’ve been going mental with polaroid film, and I know a ton of people have been telling me to cut the crazy shit out. “Ohhhhh hahah Jay bought yet another camera and more bloody film geeeze Jay time to calm that shit down eh? Hahahahha” NO. No it is not, it is NOT time to calm that shit down.

There’s been method to my madness. There is always method to madness.

I learnt this from my Granddad, if no one else.

See, despite being in denial of Granddad even arriving in this country, I understand the importance of certain things. So, several months of learning to accurately use a polaroid camera have paid off. I shut my mind down to the idea of ever having Granddad around me, or The Smalls. But with this one last chance, I knew I had to make something of it. I know I won’t get stuff printed; I never seem to validate the time to do so, or even FIND the time to select the digital files. But, to be able to take a photo of The Smalls, and be able to give it to Granddad straight away, just seemed logical. It seemed like, given his ever dwindling memory, the one way which might help Granddad remember who is who. Who was who doing what. It’s too easy to forget. SO easy.

Bah. My mind is a mess of all kinds of stuff, and I’m in no state to process anything else. After Corinne’s woodland wedding on Saturday, and the realisation that it’s Isaac’s birthday on Sunday, and trying to remember everything in between…well, I don’t think anything makes sense right now.

BUT, I know THIS. I know the importance of completing my memories. I know how important it is that I capture what I can while Granddad is with us. I know that. Amongst the madness in his mind, there is method. I see it. Probably because I do it myself. And I wanted him to see this normality. I wanted him to be able to go back to Jamaica with a head full of madness but with a sense of normality.

I would never get round to printing anything I take on the dSLR, because I know what I’m like. The perfectionist in me would never send off images to be printed without first being edited, and checked again, and then edited some more…just because that’s what I’m now trained to do. And yet, annoyingly, I would never find time to edit the stuff to send it to be printed. So I took control in a different way; screw the editing, take instant prints. I would hate 3/4 photos, and even worse, many wouldn’t even be valid photos. BUT, I knew it would mean that I could guarantee, somehow, that Granddad would have something to take away, something to remember.

The hardest thing about today was the realisation that, with madness there is method. With method, there is often madness. Granddad seems to consist of both. He grasps the reality of his surroundings, by using method. But this method often makes him sound mad. Thing is, that’s not the stuff I should be worrying about with him. What I should be worrying about is whether I’ve given him enough to tick him over until The End.

So I took the photos. I took many polaroid photos, on various formats. Photos of The Smalls in my mom’s garden, photos of my granddad giving my son his first birthday card celebrating his 4th birthday (he’s the only child in my family to have a birthday card from a great grandparent), photos of The Smalls with their Nanan; the sort of things I want them to be able to look back on many years down the line.

I’ve looked at enough printed photos, and pine for my own. I have masses of files on machines, some barely viewed for a total time of 1 minute. I wanted my polaroids to be spot on, because I knew this would be my last chance. Granddad, though in the UK for another 5 weeks, will not be back. This feels like my last chance to give him something back. This feels like my last chance to thank him for my AMAZING memories, by nourishing the last of his diminishing memories. He’s alert, but not as I remember. He knows what’s what, but it takes effort.

Even though it’s a long way back to Eden, even though the Small stuff might not seem like much to some, even though there are sometimes bigger things in life to consider…well. Sometimes, the small stuff is bigger than anything, and needs to be sweated over.

Sometimes, perspective, method and madness is all it takes to know what you should be sweating over.

There’s a lot of method and madness in my head right now. I want it to pass. But not too soon.

Not too soon.

Collection of polaroid prints

Filed Under: Family, Photography stuffs, The Smalls, Thoughts

In FRONT of the camera? Really?

April 19, 2013 by cosmicgirlie 13 Comments

York-Photography-Family_171

I’m always behind the camera. ALWAYS. Not by rule, as it were, but mostly because it’s almost always me who ends up taking the photos. Sometimes I give The Mr a prod in taking photos, but it doesn’t happen very often. So there are pretty much NO PHOTOS of the 4 of us altogether. Or at least, no decent ones, where I don’t have a trigger in my hand, or the composition is shit, or it’s a reeeeeaaally bad selfie, or whatever.

So when one of my shit-hot tog mates up in York got in touch and said “Lady? Y’all are gorgeous. Have some photos taken already.” I sure as hell jumped at the chance.

This isn’t a sponsored post, Jaye of Tux & Tales Photography hasn’t asked me to do this post (hell, she doesn’t even know I’m writing it on this Friday morning while I should be editing). And hell, I’m a photographer myself, dong my own family lifestyle photography. I’ll pimp my own stuff when I’m good and ready. And er, when I remember.

So why am I writing this here, or even, at all? Simple, 2 reasons.

1. I wanted to remind myself of the importance of getting professional family photos taken. People in the UK seem to think it’s a bit vain paying a substantial sum of money to have photos of themselves taken professionally. Personally, I think that’s epic bullshit. These photos will become FAMILY HEIRLOOMS, and I’m damn well excited about that thought.

2. I know it’s going to take me a while to get round to having an album designed for these, or putting aside some more of my budget to get prints done. So I want them here in my personal memories, even with Jaye’s branding on them. Credit where it’s due, AND I want to remember who took them, for future reference.

*Breaks the 4th wall* Jaye? Thank you. So much. I LOVED seeing my boys photographed and the way you did it was brilliant. And having DECENT photos of ALL of us TOGETHER is just perfection. We’d love to have you on a regular annual basis, and I can’t wait to get some of these on our walls. Come back soon, mmkay? 😉 x

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Filed Under: Photography stuffs

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