My friend, Brene, issued a mass tag on her blog last week. So, I am now supposed to share 16 things about me that you may not readily know. Huh-hum...ok, here goes...

 

Thankful from Farrah Braniff on Vimeo.

I live with 2 little boys and one now-grown-up man.  We also have a boy dog.  Life with boys is messy.  I mean little dirty socks, sticky hands, stained clothes and sweaty bodies kind of messy.  My littlest boy, Finnian, loves mess.  He likes playing in the dirt and he loves spraying water all over everything.  When water and dirt collide, he's in heaven.

At least in our house, life with boys is also naked.  For them clothes, except for costumes and a few favorite pairs of pj's, are a nuisance to really good relaxing and playing.  I, personally, do not agree but it seems I am out voted.

Life with my guys is silly.  Case and point...a few weeks back, while in the car, Steven had the boys in hysterics when he kept saying "I love you Mommy" to me in burps.

 Sometimes the naked, the silly and the messy all come together too.

There are some days when it all gets to be a little much.  The boys are being too messy, getting destructive, being silly and being rough.  Those are the times when I fantasize about little girls playing with dollhouses, cutting out delicate paper dolls, and wearing pretty dresses.  That is also the perfect time for me to take off and spend a few hours wandering around Nordstrom, shopping, taking in the details and feeling girly.  I'm not super girly really.  I mean I did wear purple combat boots to my prom.  So sometimes I think I was meant to have boys and that somehow I am way better matched in the land of burps and mud.

The best thing about boys, though, is that just when the mess seems way too messy and the burps aren't that funny anymore, they show you that super soft, velvety smooth boy underbelly.  They have this amazing capacity for simple and true love.  I'm sure little girls do too but I wouldn't know as much about it.  These little guys love me in the most unconditional way.  It's beyond perfect.  For me, I have never loved anyone the way that I love them.  It is the most vulnerable that I have ever been.

Every night, before I go to bed, I check on them.  I take books out from underneath them, adjust the sheets, take about 10 of the 20 stuffed animals out of the bed, whisper sweet nothings into their ears, kiss them and turn off the night lights.  Looking at them while they sleep always erases the hard parts of the day.  They could have been terrible that day but in the glow of the night lights, freshly bathed, in clean superhero pj's and all nestled in their beds they only look like angels to me.  I wonder what did I ever do to be given such an amazing gift?

 

 

 

Have you ever had someone say something to you that just stopped you in your tracks?  That very thing happened to me last week and I've been thinking about it ever since.

Here's the background...

I recently joined my local professional photography guild and have been going to the meetings.  Like anyone coming into an existing group of people, I have been searching for my space and my people - trying to find that comfortable feeling of belonging.

This past month was my 4th meeting.  Every month there is a print competition.  I'm a fairly competitive person and, even though many of the typical "blue ribbon" images that come out of these competitions are different than my usual style, I was curious about learning what scores well and trying to "shoot to win."  I had submitted prints twice before and done quite well so I decided to go for a third and brought in two prints to be judged.  These particular prints did not do very well but that was okay.  You win some and you learn some.

After the competition, I was walking out with a friend and got stopped by another fellow member.  He had been one of the judges that night and saw me carrying prints and asked me which ones had been mine.  I just smiled and said, "Oh, you guys didn't like them very much".  He asked again which ones they were and I replied, "One was the print of the two sisters hugging".   He looked back at me and said "Oh yeah, that just looked like some Mom took it."

I was shocked.  I don't even really remember what I did or said.  I think it was something like, "Oh well, like I said, it didn't do very well".  I just exchanged a stunned glance at my friend and we kept walking.  Now, I'm no rookie when it comes to critique (years and years of art school took care of that) but this remark took me aback.  It wasn't criticism, it was a jab.  Sure, it was mean but "mean" is easy and subsequently easy to deal with.  The problem with this particular jab was that it was meant to be offensive.

Unfortunately, I hear a lot of photographers talking about the influx of new women photographers:  The so-called "Moms with cameras".  Some complain that these "untrained" women are bringing the industry down.  Obviously, this is an ignorant view on many levels.  The presumption that these women are automatically untrained is ridiculous, as is the idea that you have to be formally trained to be good.  Further, the word "Mom" is being used purposefully in an attempt to be particularly denigrating.  What, Moms can't be serious and professional?  My first reaction is to raise my feminist flag and scream "sexism," but I don't think it's that simple.

Now, I understand what my particular "critic" was trying to say.  What he was trying to say, albeit poorly, was that he felt like the image was amateurish.  The point is not to debate what he meant about my print, what's important to me is to open up a dialogue about what photographers mean when they dismissively say "Mom with camera".  I don't think it's simply sexism, I think it points to the fear of the establishment in the face of a changing industry.  The broader issue is one of exclusion.

Until fairly recently, photography was, like many other professions, male dominated.  Not anymore.  Women are flocking to photography in ever-increasing numbers and for a variety of reasons.  Digital technology has lowered the cost of equipment, removing one of the main barriers to entry, and women and men are setting up businesses and doing great work.  Also, the public's taste for a less traditional photo-journalistic style has allowed many photographers to become successful without a traditional studio setup.

I understand the fear and the threat.  Some of the seasoned pros in our business started many years ago when cameras cost a fortune and it was difficult to learn the ropes.  They spent years as apprentices or in school.  They didn't have instant LCD feedback to catch mistakes and there was no Photoshop to fix the mistakes that they didn't catch.  You had to fix things with paintbrushes on original prints or negatives.  You couldn't shoot a thousand frames hoping to get 200 good ones.  It was a completely different business.  Now, the "old school" is seeing the changes and almost certainly feeling worried as they ponder their professional place in relation to the changes.  That's natural and I know that feeling well.

It is hard to know where any of us fit in this new and changing market.  As a studio owner with a big rent payment due on the 1st and the overhead of employees and the costs of high-end equipment and printing, I have felt the frustration of not knowing where my place is next to the photographers who shoot for $100 and give away inexpensive CD's of the images.  Will my customers run to them?  How can I compete with that?  The answer is pretty simple:  I cannot compete with it and shouldn't try to.

I think we, as professional photographers, have the choice to either operate from a place of fear and circle our metaphoric wagons in an attempt to fight off and exclude or we can open our minds to new trends, technologies and people and embrace (if not welcome) the new.  If we want to stay relevant then we have to move with the changes and not against them or we will be left behind.  Also, our industry is not just the shooters.  There are a lot of photographers and photography-related businesses that are making a lot of money on the efforts of the "Mom with camera".  These new photographers are buying lights, backdrops, using labs and taking workshops from more established professionals.  Those that adapt and embrace the new will survive.

Our industry leaders should be beacons for newcomers.  How are newcomers supposed to mature (professionally, that is) if they aren't accepted into the fold, trained, inspired and mentored?  How is a photographer, of any experience level, supposed to feel when they come forward seeking fellowship and education and their work is greeted with a scoff?  I know how I felt.  I felt discouraged, embarrassed and small.

There are people out there that have thousands of dollars to spend on photographs and people who have less.  Are we saying that someone with only tens or hundreds of dollars to spend shouldn't have professional photographs?  There are a lot of different markets.  If you charge thousands then find the person who wants to pay that, who loves your work and your level of service and allow the person who has less to find their person too.
 

After a lot of thought, I am left with this:  Before I was a Mom and before I was a professional portrait photographer, I was an art student, a high school photography teacher and a fine art photographer.  One of my greatest rewards came from watching people who had never taken a photograph before watch in awe as the image appeared before them in a tray of developer, just like magic.  I taught students how to start really seeing the world around them and framing it in their lens.  Did all of them go off and become professional photographers?  No, but a few did.  All of them, however, learned to see the world in a new way and gained an appreciation for the complicated process of image making that will, at the very least, make them better photography consumers.

I get it.  I understand the fear and the feelings of self-preservation.  When your livelihood and your dreams are in danger, the easy answer is to eliminate the competition.  The problem with that position is that, while you stand still, others will be moving forward, growing and adapting.  In the end, if you love what you do, work hard at it and stay away from your fear long enough to do it, consider yourself blessed and don't begrudge others their joy.  As for me, a professional photographer and camera wielding Mom, I am excited about a world filled great pictures and with people who love and value photography.

 

(photo of me by Julie Denning: photography student, my assistant and pro photographer-soon-to-be)

This evening was our last evening walk in Bezenac.  Most nights some or all of us would take a walk after dinner.  From our hillside hamlet you have a sweeping view of the Dordogne River valley.  It's truly an awesome site.  We walked along the hillside towards the old church.  The wildflowers along the road are so pretty.  This is my favorite of them all.  These grow all along the road here.

 

 

 

these too...very Horton Hears a Who don't you think?

 

 

 

I love the way the walls are like mini ecosystems here- all sorts of moss, lichens, little succulents and wildflowers.

 

 

 

Towards the church there is an old cemetery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The kids didn't seem afraid.  They asked questions, what's a cemetery? were there really bodies here?  where are the bodies? are they dead? and so on.  I did my best to give answers that were honest but not too scary.  We talked about being respectful.  No sword fighting here, don't touch the statues and so on.  Finn's little voice repeating "but why?"

 

 

 

French cemeteries are a little different than ours.  They put lots of statuettes and plaques on top of the tombs.  It looks like this.  Some of the plaques will have etched pictures of the loved one on them.

 

 

 

What's strange for an English speaker is that the plaques and statues say "souvenir" on them.  That word for us means something really different.  In French it is a verb for remembering.

 

 

 

 

 

As we strolled, we came upon this one.  Sayer stood and studied it for a long time.  Then he started asking questions, hard questions.  "Why is that man on that cross?"  and "Is that Jesus?", "What is on his head?" and "Is he dead?"

 

 

 

 

We talked and I did my best to tell the story of Jesus in a way that a 5 year old can digest.  That's a tall task by the way.  There's no real nice way to talk about someone being crucified.  He had a really tough time understanding why anyone would do that to someone and I have to say I feel the same way.  I tried though and he seemed ok and Steven thought I did a good job with it.  The conversation went off and on all evening as we walked home and then again at bedtime.  The next day we went on adventure (just the 2 of us) and he wanted to go back buy there and show me the one broken statue.  I didn't remember which one but it is the one in the picture above.  He was so confused about why the one piece was broken off.  So we walked around and talked some more about the cemetery and Jesus.  He wanted to know why some people had statues on their graves and some didn't.  So, we went and gathered some wildflowers and put one on each headstone that did not have flowers or a Jesus on it.  We also told them all that we loved them.  He's so sweet.

 

Back to our walk that night, where were we...after the cemetery we headed back to our house.  It was a little sad for me.  I knew that we were leaving the next day and I was a little heartsick over that.  It was one of those moments too where you look at the people around you with sudden clarity and just feel so completely struck with gratitude.

 

 

 

 

I mean how did this amazing thing happen?  How did I get so lucky?

 

  

 

 

I just want it to stop, to freeze right here.

 

 

 

And then we were home.  This is the last photo that I took in France.  Thanks you for traveling with us and keeping up with us as we went along.  Texas, here we come.