Through the Camera's Lens

I woke up in a new place the other day. I moved slowly and quietly as the sleep withered away from my body. The knotted pine door to my bedroom was closed and I noticed the pine knots were glowing red. Just beyond the door were massive windows that overlooked Middle Cullen Lake near Pequot Lakes in Minnesota. I held my breath in that momentary pause filled with wonder, curiosity, excitement, and anticipation. We arrived to the lake the night before and I had no idea what it looked like outside as it was dark upon our arrival. Whatever I was about to see for the first time, I had no doubt, would be stunning.

The sunrise on that early very crisp fall morning on the lake was stunning. I immediately threw on some warm clothes, grabbed my camera, and away I went. Each second was critical as the light changed so fast. I stepped out on to the deck of the lake house, snapped a few photos, and proceeded onward through the dew covered grass. In the tranquility of this morning, you could hear the day waking up. It was tender, gentle, and serene, yet definitely knew how to make an entrance!

I headed down to the dock where a few boats were lazily and patiently waiting, tied to the dock. They slowly moved back and forth as the water beneath them stretched and yawned. I looked out over the lake as the steam rose from the water's surface - rising to meet the sun, embracing the rays as if to say good morning. The water sheepishly lapped against the metal poles of the dock not wanting to be intrusive in its movements, yet uncontrolled in its need to move about. The tall reeds swayed and bowed scooping up the slightest of sweet autumn breezes. The sun dodged in and out of some overstretched clouds across the morning sky causing the sun sparkles on the water to dance with the lily pads speckled throughout the shallow part of the lake. And in the distant, the haunting call of the loon quietly echoed over the lake.

I think I viewed that entire morning through my camera's lens. I stretched out on the dock trying to compose that perfect angle for my shot. The sun warmed my face and cast a stunning brightness through my lens. I couldnt even read the meter through my viewfinder so I did my best to guess the appropriate shutter speed and aperture. I let go of my concentration on the technicalities of my camera and welcomed the image that revealed itself, letting the moment guide me rather than my equipment.

The morning was peaceful and grand. The nipping cold air was refreshing and comforting. This was a perfect autumn morning. As the day continued to wake up and unravel itself, I found myself lost in a cumulative set of meditative moments. I've tried to meditate - sitting quietly, concentrating on my breathing, or sometimes I use music, clear my head and just let go. This has never proven to be successful for me. When I have camera in hand and am able to be in nature and let go of everything else but what I am seeing, hearing , smelling, feeling, tasting through the lens of my camera, it is like no other peace I have ever felt in my life. Each photo is my meditative moment. It's a representation of my most present existence in that exact moment - a visual documentation of the texture of my life, the scent of my life, the scene of my life. Just as I had those sensory experiences while I was there in that moment - living, breathing, feeling, touching, smelling, tasting, and being - I hope for my viewer a sensory experience as well - completely personalized to each individual person of course. My art is alive and while I may no longer be physically there or physically present in that moment, emotionally, I always will be and that permanent presence will continue to live on through my photography.

Lately, life has thrown a few rough patches at me. I rumble over them doing the best I can, but my shocks are worn and the cushion that was once fully intact and strong has been well beaten and worn throughout the years. Some weeks I am clawing and scraping my way to the weekend. My clothes are ripped, the souls of my shoes are shredded, and I feel like my life is literally bleeding out of me. Other weeks, I feel fine and seem to coast through without a care in the world. Or, perhaps I am only living on the surface, refusing to let things in - to let things get too close. While last week proved very well to be one of those weeks that kicked my ass, this weekend getaway was just what I needed. Much of my energy is spent trying to figure out just who I am in this life. Having come from a life-changing experience traveling back to my birth country and navigating daily, hourly, minutely challenges in my professional life, especially around my various social and cultural identities, many times, I feel as if I am reaching out into the universe trying to grasp on to anything that seems sound and stable. If this even works, that object carries so little meaning to me. It's more of a secure foundation for me to rest on just for a moment.

There are places throughout the world where I feel whole and complete. There are people in my life who I know I can count on and are stable fixtures in my life even when I feel chameleon-ish, changing colors and shedding layer after layer after layer. And finally, there are moments, many moments and scenes in my life, that represent all of who I am - the good, the bad, and the ugly at times - caught in the click of a shutter and captured and presented in the most beautiful, honest, and truest way that I could ever reveal myself to anyone. Every part of my life becomes the best part of my life. And my story, my life, is stunningly revealed through the camera's lens.