My passion for photography all boils down to two things, the hungry artist within me and the terrifying fear of forgetting the memories that made me who I am today.
My mother was an artist, and I’ll never know if it was my mother’s influence in art or if being an artist and a photographer is genetically a part of who I am. I’ve always wanted to capture my memories the way I remembered them, to not only have something to hang on to and remember years later, but to share with those around me the beauty in how I see things. My father’s side of the family has unfortunately fallen to dementia for several generations. Knowing I may one day not remembering the good days or the good memories - terrifies me.
With this fear, I never want to forget how little Winston was. How the first time we went to the beach, his silly smile in either excitement or confusion with the way the wind was toying with his big ears, waving them around like kites, ready to take flight. The way my husband held him above the shallow waves to teach him to swim, and before his little legs hit the water he was already doggy paddling. I never want to forget how much he loved running through the tall beach grass but how he struggled with his short legs climbing the big stairs back to the car.
I never want to forget the day Winston learned how to blow bubbles and the joy that followed when he saw me laughing out loud at his silliness. The way he determinedly chases seagulls, and then walks drunkenly around staring straight up as they fly above him. Or how he bunny hops down the trail a head of me, only to stop short, look over his shoulder seemingly to ask, “Mama, are you coming?”
I never want to forget the way he looks at me, eagerly ready for adventure and then when I tell him how handsome of a puppy he is, the way he folds his ears back and relaxes into a blushing smile.
I never want to forget how excited Winston was when he would fly out the back door and clumsily scramble into a little red garden decor wagon, righting himself with a irresistible smile that would undoubtedly lead to either my husband or myself finding the closest pair of shoes and rolling Winston around the back yard in the wagon until he was satisfied. Only then to find him later corgi flopped, under the wagon with his nose in the dirt completely passed out.
Or the summer evenings when my husband would drag out his fishing pole, safety pin Winston’s latest favorite toy to the end of it, and cast the toy into the yard, only to reel it in as fast as he could, laughing with hope that it would be faster then the wild chid frantically chasing the toy, tounge out, ears flopping, and nubby tail just a tick-tocking back and forth.
I never want to forget how much we laughed at Winston’s simple joy over the igloo my husband built him for his first winter. The way he would sit inside as if knew it was his own castle to guard from rogue snow balls, or perched on the top thoroughly enjoying the extra tall view and ability to spy over the neighbor’s fence.
I never want to forget the way Winston reaches as high as his little legs will allow, nosing his toy upward on the couch in attempts to gift it to my husband, in hopes of enticing him to play tug late at night. The way he snuggles with me like a little kid’s well used teddy bear, upside down, ears flopped, with his head nestled under my chin, ready to bunny kick me with his back legs until I wrap both my arms around him in a content hug. Or the way he used to drag his own teddy bear to bed with him to use as a snuggle buddy and pillow.
These are the memories that tell the story of our munchkin Winston, who is he as a family member, and how much he has stolen our hearts. I photograph him every chance I get, because these are the memories that constantly bring me joy and that I never want to forget. And when I come home, I print my favorite images in a flush mount album, to frame for our home, or to share with my friends, family, and fans.
Because I have spent so much of my own life photographing my memories, I am able to see the beauty and joy - in the big and small moments - of the lives around me. People often think fondly of a memory and remember how it made them feel, but are unable to express that in clear words. It is my passion to capture that emotional memory in an artistic way, so my clients can return to that memory and have the ability to share that memory -just as they experience it - with those around them.
Yes, photography is a luxury, but as life continues to move forward, the memories professionally photographed and preserved become more and more valuable.
I, personally, invest in taking the time to photography my own story, because I never want to look back and cringe at the quality of my memories captured on a cell phone, or lose all my memories because my cell phone drown in the lake, or because the memory card in a family members point and shoot camera has become corroded from sitting in the camera year after year never once being uploaded or cleaned, or that one friend who tagged you in the photos is no longer on Facebook.
Don’t be this person. Whether your memories are with your animals, your family, or your best friends, the regret you will have later in life for not investing in your memories is heavier then you can imagine.
These are your memories. They are YOUR story. Take the time to invest in them.
