St. Ives Vacation

For the past year or so, I haven’t felt like me. Do you ever go through phases like that? Like, between work and school and whatever else you have going on, your creativity just vanishes into your daily obligations? For the first half of 2018, I didn’t even feel like taking pictures. I took a digital photography class, hoping it’d spark something inside of me; instead, the assignments became just more tasks to complete. And I would think, where did I go?

So, as I reflect on my summer–yes, the rain is already falling in the Pacific Northwest–I see that I needed St. Ives. I needed the remoteness of Cornwall, England with its narrow roads, pristine beaches, art galleries, and ocean views. I hope it makes sense to say, I felt myself returning.

On one particular night, I bought a glass of wine at a beach cafe and then sat on Porthmeor Beach, facing west. After an 85-degree day, the sun fell into a pink mist, turning the sky violet as it dipped below the water, scattering light across the waves. The sands cooled my feet, and I drank my wine. A German girl next to me took photos on her iPhone. A father chased a naked child who squealed and collapsed with laughter in the sand, wanting to be caught. Others lined the wall above the beach, waiting for the sun to set entirely. And we all got to experience the zephyr of ocean air, forgetting what came before and to abandon expectations for what might come after. Just to breath. Listen. Embrace a perfect moment.

Some peeled away after the sun disappeared, returning to hotel rooms or pubs to finish watching a game. Others lingered in the silence.

That was St. Ives to me, a few moments that existed beyond a camera lens. A few moments that showed me that stress and obligations can sometimes strangle the spirit right out of you, if you let them. It’s okay to slow down and enjoy life at a slower pace sometimes. I guess that’s why we go on vacation–to be reminded.

And I did feel like taking my *big* camera out, eventually. I captured a lot of photos on my cellphone this year, but here are a few from my Nikon as I explored St. Ives.

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The Burden of Being Fancy

When I got my Nikon D800 four years ago I thought, this camera is going to change my life. I dubbed her “Fancy” and vowed to travel the world with her, taking once in a lifetime photographs that would have National Geographic pounding at my door. Today, I just think about how much she makes my wrists hurt and how there are probably thousands of people running around with Fancys of their own, wanting a shot with National Geographic or Lonely Planet.

I’ve learned that I’m lazy. I don’t necessarily want to learn all the nerdy and technical components about photography that will make me better at it. At the end of the day, I just want to capture what’s beautiful about the world around me. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t.

More and more often, I take pictures on my cellphone, which is funny because that’s how this whole blog started years ago: cellphone photos. That’s not to say I’ve totally lost interest in Fancy; I’m just a lot more selective about when I take her out. During my last trip to England, I took most of my photos on my phone. I mean, it’s compact; I can easily hide it in my purse when I’m done using it. I don’t have to worry about breaking it. I can instantly upload photos to social media.

So…sorry, Fancy. Here are some of my favorite cellphone photos from England earlier this month.

ReflectionInterior Bath AbbeyBath Abbey GirlOpen Air TheaterSt Ives 10

Shadow SelfieSt. Ives BeachSt IvesSt Ives 5St Ives 7St Ives BoatsTin Mine

Climb to CastleTin Mine3MailboxHastings 2

Hastings AlleyHastings CastleHastings 3Battle AbbyBattle Abby2White CliffsWhite Cliffs 2

Afternoon Poetry

The word “poetry” elicits a wide variety of responses from people, but the most common one seems to be exhausted disinterest.  Asking someone to read a poem is like asking them to complete a math problem.  I understand, I really do.  But, I took a course in American Literature last spring and developed a new appreciation for it – although more for the free verse style of Walt Whitman.      

This weekend I decided to write a short poem with the intention of taking a picture to go with it.   I’m not normally poetic – I prefer writing short stories and am steadily working on book about my Irish adventures.  However, there was a vision in my head I needed to somehow express this weekend.   I have absolutely no idea what title to give it. 

Thank you, Ronna for helping me put together this shot!   Here is the yet to be named poem.

In this journey, he is the kicked-up dust on the road
that settles to the ground moments after I pass by.   

The wind lifts the fading footprint into the air,
and it becomes a swiftly diffusing memory across the ethers.    

And you, my love, are the phantasm of a wandering spirit. 
You flicker across the horizon, pulling my heart forward but never closer.