The month of April was for slowing.
It was one for realizations of simple truths; for excitement and longing, for coffee and tea and allergies. It held twilit ice cream ventures and hoop-shoots. It was for absorbing as much sun as possible and being given more clarity through it all.
The month of April was to be slowed and surprised.
Sisterhood, part III. The third of a new personal series, designed to stretch me as an artist and challenge to capture the living, breathing, and moving character in a person or relationship.
Friends, meet Kristen and Megan, a couple of the liveliest ladies I know. These two have a rare relationship, particularly in the way that they laugh together. Boy, do they laugh! This shoot was a delight, not only because they had me laughing the whole time, but because I got to witness a treasured friendship between sisters in which they understand each other, and though they hold people in high regard, they still don't take life too seriously. This is so valuable, and I am thankful to have people in my life like this, who will remind me not to take myself too seriously.
March was learning to create again.
It was filled with celebrations of life (my own included) and reminders of truth. March was for truthful reminders, traditions, new shoes and good pizza; it was made of cold rain, art over coffee, unfamiliar sports, and learning to love, always.
This month was one to remind me how to be inspired.
Sisterhood, part II. The second of a new personal series, designed to stretch me as an artist and challenge to capture the living, breathing, and moving character in a person or relationship.
Alright guys, I think it's time you meet Juliana and Kirrily, some very dear friends of mine. Something I loved about shooting these two was the challenge and intrigue of capturing their great differences. I made an effort to keep in mind their story: how they have gone from being drastically different, and even somewhat distant most of their lives, to becoming good friends in the past couple of years. What a beautiful image of learning to treasure the things you have always had.
Sisterhood, part I. The first of a new personal series, designed to stretch me as an artist and challenge to capture the living, breathing, and moving character in a person or relationship.
Everybody, meet Leah and Megan. Not only are they sisters but they are also best friends. It has been quite an experience watching them grow as individuals over the years, solidifying their personal characters and becoming increasingly more confident in the lovely women they are. But even further than that, I have witnessed their relationship, as they have changed, stay just as strong and honest as it ever was. Like many sisters, their differences can at some times be great. But, unlike many, these ones trust and rely on each other as friends as well.
The lovely Kelsie, a fellow photographer (see her work here) and I went on a spontaneous, vintage-inspired weekend photoshoot this fine cloudy day. It was such a gift to get the creative juices flowing again with her: traipsing around the city's little rusty brick corners, hopping around, scaling walls and bridges in ridiculously high heels. Along with being an incredibly imaginative, comfortable and encouraging photographer and friend, Kelsie also happens to be a striking model. Please enjoy!
The month of February was one for facing my fears.
It was one for soup and coffee dates with new people (the start of something), for getting taxes finished early; it was for scarves, sushi and sunlight. February was for line dances, bloody noses, succulents, and for crafting all night long. It was the month that held production week safely in her arms: encouraging me, driving me, and beginning to guide me into something greater than I expected.
February was for finding new homes.
January was for trying new things.
Not intentionally, of course. Not as a new year resolution. But this month definitely surprised me with pleasant experiences when I would surrender myself to them. It was a month gracious with quality time, heart-palpitating music, late night pizza and ice cream, green grass and inches of snow.
It was a month of serendipity, one might say; fortunate accidents.
The month of December was one for lament.
She was filled with nostalgic air; inhabited with days of gift-making, plot-scheming, power outages, unusually gracious sunny days, familiar paths, my first car; and dearly unexpected encounters, new appreciations, old connections.
December carried heaviness with its days, as I remembered back a year ago at this time, but she also held such delight, a newfound excitement for the holidays like I have never known.
November was for the unexpected.
It was for solo road trips to unknown places: reunions, poutine, face masks, arm scratches, watercolor, and the long-awaited exploration of abandoned buildings. It was a month scattered with broken days, twinkle lights, long awaited unions, sportsball, tried traditions, first snows, not enough coffee dates, and kisses in the rain.
November was an in-between month, one of confusion in seasons: trying to understand why there is no snow in me when I expect there should be.
