God's Tattoos, A Reflection on Scars

Tattoos are stories you've chosen.  Scars are stories that choose you. They are evidence that your journey didn't quite go as planned. That God pitched you a curveball. No one plans on a scar unless you have plastic surgery, and even then the goal is to hide it as much as possible.

One of the most rewarding experiences of my life has been working with wounded warriors of The Iraq Star Foundation and The Tempered Steel Organization. Many of the troops have had tens or dozens of surgeries. Some are blanketed with scars. It is my job with Iraq Star to help guide troops injured in Iraq or Afghanistan through free reconstructive surgery. For Tempered Steel, I was asked to shoot the photo introspective,"Honoring the Wounds of War" to capture the beauty behind the scars of war. For many of the troops I know, their scars are a constant reminder of the most traumatic incident of their lives. Which is why I ached with hypocricy that after all I have experienced, that I actually shuddered at my surgeon's description of the scar my next surgery will leave behind. 

"The scar will run up and down your lower belly." My surgeon motioned with his finger from my belly button down to my bladder. In order to fix my spine, he will have to enter from the front. This will be my fourth procedure this year. But the incisions from my previous surgeries are relatively small for the work that was done. The scar on the front of my neck is just big enough to start a conversation at a cocktail party. The scar on my back is small enough to forget it's there. 

"See how the other discs are white? That's fluid. That's good. See your disc there? It's black. That's dead. That's bad." Then he pointed out how the disc thrust from my vertebral column into the spinal cord dislodging the little grey nerves that looked like naked trees in a winter storm. 

The situation in my spine is dire. Yet there I was. Worried about a scar on my stomach. That I don't show anyway! After four children, belly shirts and bikinis are not on my shopping list. So why was I so concerned about a scar? I even considered a less effective surgery just so the scar would be on my back! To me, people who embrace their scars are so beautiful. Why is it so much easier to see the beauty in other people's imperfections but not our own?

An epiphany came when my friend Jane, who was with me at my appointment said, "What's more important,your health, or a scar?". I began reflecting on my other scars. The one on my knee from when I was seven and fell off a bike in the driveway. It formed into the shape of a heart. It's faded now. The dumbest scar I have is on the tendon on the outside of my ankle from when I was twelve. I tried to shave my legs, with my father's razor. It gauged into the thinned skin scraping it off the tendon so the white showed through the blood. I bled forever. It seemed. Bleeding always seems to last forever when you're the one bleeding. My C-Section scar from my last-born was easier to embrace because to me something tangible came from it. A baby. A life. I felt I earned that scar. I didn't mind it so much, as it also runs low beneath my bikini line. The bikini that's not on my shopping list.

Maybe Scars are bookmarks saving a place in one's life to revisit when you look at them. My scars are things I can look at and know they are the result of healing. 

I've realized my old scars have become a part of me. If I were ever kidnapped they would be my distinguishing features. Female, five foot-seven and a half inches, heart-shaped scar on her left knee, three-inch scar on left ankle due to a shaving accident. 

This surgery may not result in a baby. But it will result in a life. A life releasing me from this level of pain. A freedom to walk and be out with my children. A freedom to be on top again, even with my husband. 

 

One thing I do know, it's time to reframe this sugery. How do I make this a bookmark? This scar should be a symbol that I lived through a challenge. It should be a reminder of how magnificent the human body is; That it can be opened and closed; That our medical advancements allow for this surgery in the first place. 

Perhaps the greatest hurdle is in accepting the marking of innocence. The soft bared skin of my tummy that's carried children, soaked in the warmth of the sun on hot summer days. The skin that my husband gazes on, then gently looks into my eyes. 

Or maybe scars are God's tattoos. Perhaps they are just His way of stamping certain folk so St. Peter puts them in the Fun-Pass lane. There is one last thought I will hold onto. I may not be my scars, but my scars do help define who I am, where I've been, and how I have lived. How I hit God's curveball. How I stretched out in the warm summer sun and asked for a little more color in the butterfly wings as His ink sinks into my skin. 

Just Keep Swimming by Mckenzie Brazina

Just Keep Swimming

By Mckenzie Brazina

A graduates reflection on leaving home

In high school all I wanted to do was grown up, go on a date, learn how to drive and ultimately be independent. I didn’t need mom and dad’s help. All I wanted to do was be on my own. Then the time came for me to leave for college and initially I was excited. Coming out of my skin thinking “this is it”. This is the time for me to show the world what I’m made of. 

 Entering college I couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water. New friends, new environment, no one to do your laundry or cook for you. You are thrust into a vast open ocean, flailing looking for something to anchor you down to your new home. It feels as though family is a world away and familiarity has vanished into the abyss. Regardless of how many friend you make those fundamental first weeks, you feel alone. Searching for something to call your own, to make you feel somewhat at home. Buying food your mom would pick up for you at the local market, spraying a little Hawaiian Breeze Febreeze to make your dorm smell like living room, keeping the air conditioning at the same level as you would at home, simply to instill some sense of familiarity and comfort. 

You sit in that particularly well decorated dorm room with family photos, your boyfriend’s basketball jersey, the Hawaiian Breeze Febreeze’s pineapple and ocean air undertones resinated in your nostrils flowing down into your lungs, your heart begins to   ache and the tears begin to flow. Wishing so badly that you could just be in your mother’s arms just to feel her arms around you like she did in that photo, look up a that jersey and dreaming of looking up and sensing that endearing kiss on your forehead, smelling the febreeze and wanting so badly to curl up on that couch with your mom and watching the chaos that is the Real Housewives unfold. I begin to panic wishing I could be back home. And then I remember to: “just keep swimming”. 

In 2004, Pixar released the oscar award winning family picture Finding Nemo. In which a little clown fish named Nemo experiences something eerily similar to leaving home for college. He was the only one to survive a barracuda attack that took the life of all of his brothers and sisters and his mother, leaving Nemo with a gimp fin dubbed his “lucky fin”. Up until the first day of school, Marlin-Nemo’s father-refuses to let him out of his sight. Nemo is teeming with excitement and leaps into the class unable to control himself any further. He meets a few friends that get him into a trouble by coaxing him into a competition of “who can touch the boat first”. Marlin shows up demanding that he come right back. Out of defiance Nemo torpedoes toward the boat, touches it, and comes back. On his way back a diver emerges capturing Nemo and surfacing to the boat. Frightened and in a daze, Marlin begins his quest to find his Son. Marlin meets and angel fish named Dory who suffers from short term memory loss and accompanies him in his quest to find Nemo. Later in the film when things get hard and Marlin feels hopeless she tells him to “Just keep swimming!”. Nemo ends up in a fish tank of a Dentist’s office in Sydney, Australia and makes friends with several other lost souls who dream of getting out and exploring the real world. He is given the responsibility of clogging the filter so they can complete their task of escaping the tank. All nemo wants to do is make his way home and be with his father. But, he takes on the responsibility and successfully makes his way back into the open sea only to be reunited with his father. He proves himself by using the lessons learned in the tank to save Dory from being caught in a fisherman’s net. Ultimately Marlin and Nemo realize the value and importance of family and they learn to never take one another for granted.

I remember when I first saw this film. I was nine and my mom could not have been more excited to see a movie about talking fish. Initially that’s all I thought it was...a movie about talking fish. Then the first scene finished and I knew this film was something special. Here I am nine years later looking back on just how important this film is to me. It’s a film with heart, merit and resinates down to my very core. Looking back on the film it’s a story about family, determination and a less of how important it is to cherish the ones you love and the little things in your life. 

“Ladies and Gentleman we are cleared for take off, please fasten your seat belts, make sure your tables are in the upright and locked position and enjoy your flight. Thank you again for flying Southwest Airlines!”. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, the butterflies doing their dance in my stomach and the smell of the airplane fuel and the business men’s cologne filling the air. I was headed home for the first time since I moved to Arizona. This trip is a surprise for my boyfriend and little sisters. All I could think about was seeing their faces, feeling their hugs, and hearing those irreplaceable laughs. The longest hour an twenty-five minutes of my life goes by and I’m finally home. Hailing down a cab, zipping down the california highways, taking in the familiar time-capsule like streets and realizing nothing has changed. Pulling up to my home seeing Cassie May, my nine year old sister, light up when she realizes the sea monkeys she thought she was getting in the mail was really her big sister. Reggie, the dog, bolting out of the house, his stumpy legs barely able to catch up, as he excitedly rolls over and kisses me. Seeing little Emma Jane, seven, leap off the couch of the playroom, throwing herself into my arms and feeling her hug me tighter than ever before. Genuinely hugging my younger brother, Joey, 15, and saying “god I missed you guys”. Hugging my mom and holding her as though I was attached to a kite ready to fly away again.

I tell them I’ll be right back and make my way over to surprise my boyfriend. I arrive and tap his speed dial and wait for him to answer. I tell him to come outside. 

He says okay and makes his way outside. I step out from my hiding spot and see his face. Stunned, in shock, as his hand covers his eyes. I feel my bare feet smack against the asphalt as I run and jump on him. He begins to cry. I feel his breath shortening, his cheek against mine and take everything in. 

That night we went to my house where we were surrounded by family. A fire pit glowing the darkness of the back yard. Cassie and Emma hell-bent on playing a game of charades, Joey playing his guitar, and my mom sitting back with a glass of wine relaxed at ease and enjoying a familiar evening with her babies. For once, I am able to feel everything around me. From the course seat cushions, to the warm summer night breeze, I feel every finger and callas of my boyfriend’s hand laced into mine. My senses are magnified, my mind could not be more excited to take it all in, and-for the first time in 5 weeks- my heart is finally at ease. I was back in my natural environment. No longer a fish out of water, but rather a fish flourishing in the depths of the sea. It occurs to me just how important the little things are in life. Every touch, every smell, every word spoken is priceless. You never realize what you have until it’s gone. 

The whole weekend went by all too quickly but I tried desperately to slow down time by appreciating every little moment. I think to myself during all that time of wanting to leave home did I ever stop to appreciate the simplicity of a home cooked meal? Did I take in the subtle magic that is being with family? The answer is no. I never stopped to think that one day I would be the fish out of water, I would be Nemo, desperate to simply be home, to be with his father again. 

On the plane back home my heart was in my stomach. I laid down in the empty row and closed my eyes in hopes of falling into a dream land where I was home with my family and that nothing had changed. “Ladies and gentlemen we are now making our final descent into Phoenix, please fasten your seat belt make sure your tables are locked and your seats are in the upright position. We hope you enjoyed your flight! Thanks for choosing Southwest Airlines!” My heart drops even further into my gut. 

The cab pulls up in front of the time capsule like dorm. Nothing has changed. I picture Nemo and his father reunited and how perfect everything must be. I wonder what Cassie May and Emma Jane must be dreaming about, if Reggie is curled up next to my mom, and if my brother is still up yelling profanities at his Xbox. I think how perfect everything must be back home. Then the little blue angel fish, suffering from short term memory loss rings in my head: “Just keep swimming”. And I did. 

That first week back was the hardest transition I have ever been through. My heart ached terribly wanting to just be home again. The Hawaiian Breeze febreeze traveling through my lungs making my heart ache. Wanting to be in my mother and boyfriend’s arms like I was that weekend, striving for some sense of normalcy. Then the little blue angel fish, suffering from short term memory loss, rings in my head again: “Just  keep swimming”. And I did. I gained my bearings about campus and began the process of anchoring myself to the ocean floor of this vast open sea we call “College”. 

Being in college has taught me many things. Don’t talk to people on the light rail, make it to class on time, to stick with what you know in the dining hall; But, most importantly that family is everything. Family will always be there and will support you no matter what. Family sticks together, never letting anyone fall and persistently being right there to pick one another up. I have learned to never take anything for granted and to appreciate the little things. When thinking in terms of Finding Nemo, the value of family is priceless and you never realize what you have until it is taken away from you. Since I was nine years old this film has taught me lesson after lesson about life and all of its obstacles. Anytime things get hard or I feel like giving up, I remember family is forever and they are not going anywhere; but, most importantly, I remind myself to “just keep swimming”. 

Reality & Red Bull

You know there's not much left to conquer when you have to jump of the edge of space to get people to notice. Only what makes this historic event so newsworthy, is Felix Baumgartner didn't do it just to get on the news. His mission-impossible ran deeper than any accolade. He didn't do it just to retire either. Nobody commits suicide so they can retire. Although it is an option. He did it because he dreamed big enough.

My fifteen year-old son called me the morning of the jump. Divided by time zones at the moment, it was too early for him to be awake, nonetheless excited about something. His voice exercised a tone reserved for Christmas. When your heart is opened and bursting with the unexpected. My son had just witnessed the impossible. Online.  "Mom, a man jumped from the stratosphere back to Earth. His name is Felix Bamblgarden or something like that. And he survived." I heard  something about Red Bull. I thought he was talking about the latest commercial-gone- viral.  I suddenly felt an urge for a Red Bull. I was confused. His voice would not release its momentum until he knew I fully understood what he was telling me. "Mom, this guy jumped from a platform and did a free-fall to Earth. Mom, he spun out of control and caught himself and didn't open the chute until he was a mile up. Mom, it was so beautiful, it was so cool. It was so real.  

Real. It was the reality we have all been waiting for. The years of shows. The ultimate Survivor. How we've ached to see something so real that it would actually slap us in the face and waken us from our drunken hypnotic slumber. Our hangover from toxic television. 

Which brings me to my personal Achilles heel. Honey Boo Boo. Their family so marked in the indelible drawl of pageant juice it's like watching a train wreck without teeth. The Kardashians. A 72 hour spiral to the matrimonial cemetery. Real Housewives. Dear God forgive me for the things I cannot change  yet must record. Could someone please just cast a duck and get it over with, they have rights too you know.

The point being, reality shows are popular for a reason. We (ok, I) watch to see who's going to crash. Who's parachute won't open. It's like watching NASCAR without the cars. It's so engrained in our society to stop and stare at what is wrong, or hoping something does go wrong so we stay engaged, that when something so very right occurs, we are stunned. 

It took a man. Jumping from space. To wake us up. 

Baumgartner had an idea. An idea my young fifteen year-old son could only dream of. To fly. To throw himself from the edge of space, soar through the clouds to feel his face rippled with the forces of nature. For once in my son's life, he watched something real. That mattered. And he cheered. For its success. In his fifteen years we have not landed on the moon, but shielded our eyes from the eclipse. The space travel program that used to make grown men stand in awe, is now on X-Box. It's ironic that as technology expands, our youth's grasp of what is truly physically possible, contracts. Just at the moment when what used to be impossible, is more possible than ever before. Well, not everything is possible; Honey Boo Boo has a long road ahead of her. The Kardashians will never have enough. But through this magnificent display of adventurism, I am once again a believer in the power of the human spirit.

I hung up with my son, fully armed with Google keywords to discover for myself this phenomenon fueled by Red Bull and Flix Blamudgodman. My phone chimed. A text. From my son. "Mom, do you think I could actually be a certified sky-diver someday?" Absolutely my son. Absolutely. And for once reality was a beautiful, cool thing. Like an X-Box. That falls from the sky. At Christmas. 

The Zen of Photography

The secret to being a respected event photographer has a lot to do with an ability that few of us think about when we book our first job; The ability to become one with the environment….. This is the "Zen of photography".

It's that feeling that you are so in sync with the world around you that you could sense a misquito about to burp in the other room. It sounds funny, but it’s true. A good photographer captures what’s happening around him. An awesome photographer becomes one with what’s around him, enters the middle realm of reality and grabs the shot from the inside out, essentially grabbing the soul of the moment and holding it for ransom. 
Remember the last “great” photograph you took. The one that when you first saw it, it spoke to you. It told you that you alone owned that moment in time. Then, you thought it was kind of cool, so you showed it to a friend and for a moment there was silence, you sat wondering if it was really good or not. Then they said it, “That’s really good…..wow, you know that could be in a magazine. You should enter that in a contest or something….” For a moment, all was right in the world. The economy could crash again and worlds could collide, but for that moment nothing else existed, or mattered. For that moment, you realized you created something special all your own that no one else captured. In some ways, photography is a selfish, lonely existence. The irony is that we make a living providing memories for others people.The art of photography comes in creating beautiful imagery, but does this come from shooting for the client or shooting for yourself? A respected photographer balances shooting for himself first, and then for the client. I know, this goes against all logic and everything you’ve ever heard about event photography. Of course you must shoot for the client, but don’t forget the reason they hired you: They like your work, they like you, and most of all they trust you. Yes, a successful photographer must be mentally unbalanced to the point that you become 2 people at the same time. One part of you is shooting what FEELS right to you, it’s that sweet spot, that moment when you hit the tennis racket and the ball just pops off through the air and crosses the net perfectly. The other side of you wants to cross-dress, I mean must cross over the aisle to the perpetual aisle and shoot from the head, not the hip. Being able to capture both what you desire and what the client expects, makes a good photographer. Doing both of these things at once, could very well lead to greatness.

Mr. Pickles' Solo

Today's blog has little to do with photography. It is about a bird. It's about friendship and loss, but most of all, it’s about hope.

It was an unlikely friendship that began 9 years ago when my dad adopted my ornery Cockatiel who went by the name Mr. Pickles, because he was a sour one, the epitome of the angry bird. With two children and a baby on the way the last thing I needed was sniper spitting seeds at the back of my head. Dad, having recently retired as an airline captain, figured it might not be a bad idea to have someone else around the house wear the wings for a while.

Dad flew his Mooney down to Los Angeles and carried Mr. Pickles home in a box.  Upon their arrival, it was clear that Mr. Pickles was going to be a project in patience. He squawked incessantly when ignored, and he should have been named Pig Pen. He wasn't a Cockatiel, he was a Tazmanian Devil. My dad resorted to opening the cage door to see if he would calm down outside of the cage. He did. He flew, and flew, and flew. He dove in circles around the living room, through the bedrooms, down the hall, avoiding mirrors and expertly navigating to one particular bookshelf. It was there where he stopped, chirped, and found what was to be his favorite spot in the house.  

Dad always whistled when we were kids. As a gracefully silver gentleman, it is now reserved for grandchildren, and for Mr. Pickles.  The Woody Wood Pecker theme song became their duet, and when dad walked by, Mr. Pickles would offer a stretched-neck ovation complete with tune reserved for buxom blondes outside construction sites. But his favorite was Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits. That one got Mr. Pickles every time. Dad would begine the song, and Mr. Pickles ended it every time with perfect pitch.

On any random evening, you'd find Mr. Pickles slip-sliding his way to the rim of Dad's Gin, his wings grasping for balance, his nose flaring as he inhaled the vapors rising to his beak. Each morning, Dad would wake to the tip-toe wobbles of his feathered friend bobbing on his chest, warbling like a rooster in a headlock. 

Every time Dad was on the phone, you would hear the echoed chirp of Mr. Pickles, announcing his presence like a jealous mistress coughing in the background of a boyfriend's phone call.

Then one day Dad called me. The background was silent. Dad's voice was short to the point. He was once again the pilot on the PA knowing there was a major problem, but refusing to cause alarm. Mr. Pickles was gone. It was his fault. He was on his shoulder. He walked outside. He bent over. There was a big wind. He struggled to fly back to Dad. Mr. Pickles was gone.

My dad rarely cries.

Life's tables turned, and it was me trying to convince him all would be ok. Mr. Pickles will come back, I'm sure he's found a Robin Red Breast by now and shacked up with eggs on the way. Nothing could make it better.

Nightfall came. Dad answered his phone the following day, wind muffling the speaker as he walked the neighborhoods with hundreds of flyers flapping in the wind. It was March with freezing temperatures mixed with high winds and unpredictable weather. He knocked on every door, slipped flyers in mailboxes and posted them on telephone poles. No one had seen Mr. Pickles. Each inquiry was met with a curiosity of the devotion this man shared with his missing friend.  Every hour that passed, the possibility of recovering Mr. Pickles got smaller and smaller. Then Dad knocked on the final door of the day. A woman answered. She had not seen Mr. Pickles but would keep on eye out for him. She then offered Dad one shredded thread of hope. She suggested he visit the animal control center.

The pilot had one last place to search for his friend, and that place was in fact, behind the airport. He called the center. They had two cockatiels. The odds were a million to one. The center was 10 miles away.

Dad walked into the shelter, and there he was, Mr. Pickles, sitting in the corner of a steel cage. Dad whistled, Mr. Pickles whistled. Mr. Pickles began to manically pace the cage like a drunken sailor, his head bobbing and weaving. His friend had found him. His solo was over.

The phone rang. It was Dad. Mr. Pickles chirped in the background, morphing with my father’s voice. Mr. Pickles was home.

Wedding Planning 101

I'm here to save you from yourself...ah you are cute and all, even with that hole in your knee from bending and the tendinitis from practicing the art of opening that precious ring box you've kept hidden in your underwear drawer (because that is the one place you know us gals will never dare venture...). You've watched the Robins Brothers ads with her sitting next to you, ached with excitement that you knew something she did not..finally...

You are counting down the days, your palms sweat at the thought that this, this one moment that is all yours, is about to become a reality. The bride dreams of the wedding day, the groom dreams of the day he's paid off the ring, OH and holds his sweetheart in his arms...forever.

I'd like to be the cricket on your shoulder, and give you a little heads up, some tools to work with for once you have announced to the world you will be husband and wife. And that at least for a little while, you actually knew something that she didn't know...

~~~~~~~~~~~

What the heck does a photographer know about planning a wedding? I mean, all we do is show up and shoot, right?
In actuality, it is the photographer who is essentially the mole of every wedding. It is the photographer who is there from beginning to end, has seen what works, and what doesn’t, and we notice when things run smoothly, or not, and why!

First of all, if you do nothing else first in planning your wedding, re-frame your mind, your thinking, your entire DNA and reboot...you are now a Bride and a Groom.

The first thing to do is plan for TWO budgets. Create a low-budget wedding, which will get you into Heaven with a fast pass. Then plan a higher-end gluttony budget, which will result in a temporary stay in Purgatory. Why two budgets? Because this will allow you to really clarify what means the most to you, and what you can do without! Think about it! When you have to sit and think about what is MOST essential to your day, your priorities are set and you have that referral base to refer to when you start to get out of hand and the local psyche ward needs to be summoned with their ceremonial bridal straight-jacket.

1.    Once you have determined what is most important to you, get those vendors set in stone EARLY. Did you know most photographers book about six months in advance?

2.    Saturday is not always the best day to get married...Consider a Friday night or on a Sunday! The most popular day to book is Saturday, so the demand is there and vendors are sometimes overbooked on those dates and locations are at their peak. Also, really think about an off-season wedding! You’d be surprised at the extra-delightful tone you would receive on the other end of the line by vendors if you approach them with a January, February or early March wedding. This is slow time for the industry and everyone has come off of the holidays. This is a great time to look for deals even from the most elite vendors ;0)

3.    Don’t be afraid to look at vendors your other vendors recommend. First of all, if they recommend someone, there’s usually a reason. The vendors I recommend, I’ve seen in action, I love not only their work, but their personalities!!!! Remember, as I said, vendors are people too, and the personalities of your vendors will help to dictate the personality and vibe of your entire day! You may have found a florist with gorgeous flowers, but what if they don’t work well with others, what if there are certain restrictions with the church or with the reception area and they get super cranky and upset the planner/coordinator and then the florist doesn’t care as much as they used to so your flowers show up an hour late and the photographer is off schedule and the portraits are late, so the mother of the bride is cranky which results in an argument which is heard by the priest…..well….you get the idea…

4.    On items that mean a lot to you both, make sure both bride and groom meet with each and every essential vendor together. I was pleasantly surprised when my manly hubby-to-be actually cared which flowers we used! You end up learning a lot about each other and realize that the decision-making you are enduring and sharing together in planning a wedding is a wonderful blueprint opportunity for how you will be making other decisions in the future. This is a time, which will be the barometer for future negotiations. Don’t be afraid of this experience, embrace it and realize that this event is a gift to yourselves as a couple embracing the rest of your lives.

5.    Remember that a big wedding is not always going to be the most memorable. Well, to rephrase….you may remember the debt….but please, from the bottom of my digitally archived heart, know that your guests really don’t mind if they don’t go home with a silver plated shot glass from Tiffany’s. (well, ok, I’ve secretly longed for such a treasure, but we’ll keep this to ourselves…)

6.    Your friends love you, THAT’s why they are there! OK, you may have some social climbers and dysfunctional family members as well, but in the end this is a party for you and your loved ones. Period end of story. Don’t forget this when planning your wedding. Select flowers which make you FEEL beautiful, which will brighten the hearts of those you love. Don’t go picking bouquets to impress. If you choose elements for your day because they feel right to you, it will all fall into place. This may seem whimsical, but I’ve seen it over and over again.

7.    Don’t be afraid to hire a wedding coordinator for Day-Of services! Many coordinators offer this service at a minimal expense in the larger scheme of things!!! It is a GIFT to yourself and your family, your mothers especially, to have that one contact person for all of the vendors, who ensures that your day will go smoothly. They do it all that day…and are your best friend so that your maid of honor and best man can do their jobs of tending only to you, not running around trying to contact the linen guy because the tables aren’t set yet!

8.    If you are getting married outside, if there is even a 10% chance of rain, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE BACK-UP TENT PROVISIONS!!!!! Make sure the site, or your planner has this locked in. I shot one of the most beautiful weddings in Malibu where it got completely rained out and the entire table settings were drenched,favors were ruined, and the entire reception had to be reset during the ceremony...

9.   Think of your wedding as your baby which is taking its first breath. It is your child, nobody else's, and you have the right to tell anyone not to touch it. Your wedding is your personal space, to be respected. Yes, if your parents are paying for part or all of it, it is the loving thing to do to inquire as to their suggestions, but in the end it is up to you as to how you will remember your day.

10.  Most of all, remember NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, LIFE IS ABOUT STORIES! Not every wedding is going to be perfect, there will probably be little things here and there which can go wrong, but at the end of the day there are only three people who need to show up: You two, the minister, and well…..let’s make it four (the photographer…;0)

Twelve Steps to a Photography Business

So you've finally made the psychological plunge! You are going to start a photography business! Or at least you'd like to start thinking about it seriously before anyone can talk you out of it ;) There are a few basic things you need to know before you take the leap.
1. Name It
Don't just name your business, put some thought into it or at least make it personal. I came up with the absolutely wild and brazen concept of "Bensko Photography". I know, don't fall out of your chairs. It's pretty brave. Go to www.logomaker.com and create your own logo!
2. DBA It
A DBA is 'Doing Business As'. It essentially tells the world you live in to watch out, you are no longer Joe Schmo, you are now officially the person in town with an alias who's going to be shooting people.
Visit the Dept. of Registrar-Recorder Country Clerk’s Office to register your fictitious business name.
3. Print It
Within 30 days, you MUST publish a statement in the local newspaper announcing your DBA that will run for 4 weeks! This is essential!
4. Bank On It
Select your bank wisely. Watch for fees, and if they are "business friendly"! You may have a few questions as you are just starting out, so make sure you can connect with someone there personally who you can approach for advice along the way.
5. Build It
Your website is probably the most IMPORTANT step you will ever take in this journey as a photographer. DO NOT RUSH IT! Make sure the site is where you want it to be, that you only post the best images you have taken. If you are not sure about an image, if people haven't genuinely reacted in awe, do not post it!!! Your website is the one chance people have to make a three second decision as to whether or not they are going to call you to even see if they want to hire you. Your site is the key to the door of possibilities. Websites can be pricey, ask around if anyone knows a graphics guru who would like to trade services! Have a vision of what you would like, but allow your guru to do their magic as well. Just as you are an artist, they are as well and it's important to remember that creative minds may not always think alike at first. Try to have a clear a vision as possible, sit together and look at sites that you like. However, make sure your site does not look like other photographers' sites! The key is to be unique.
6. Flash It
Flash is FUN! BUT, don't just ask for a Flash site because of the fancy slideshow options. Although technology is quickly advancing, nowadays most everyone accesses sites on the run! Your site MUST be accessible via smart phones and smart tablets! Even if you are dead set on having a Flash site, then have an HTML option on it or you could be out a lot of business.
A great solution is one of the hottest items out there today, and one of the most commonly asked for in the business world: The Electronic Press Kit! It's extremely reasonable, and a great option! You can view mine here.
7. Shout It
Get the word out that you are building the imagery for your site. Shoot your friends and neighbors for free and put your whole heart into it. You are giving them a gift, and they are giving you a gift in return as well. Treat these sessions as though they are paying you in gold, because they are!
8. Appreciate It
Referral incentives work! It's a wonderful thing when someone refers a client to you, don't be afraid to offer them a print discount or a percentage of sales from their referrals. It's a tough world out there and appreciation goes a long way.
9. Donate It
Ok, you can stop giving every once in a while, but rarely pass on donating to silent auctions. It's great exposure, it helps a cause, broadens your market visibility and connects you with a new client base!
10. Network It
If you haven't started social networking, then get on the insane train NOW. Do not pass go, do not collect 200 pesos. This is a new era, new day and age. If you are on Facebook, create an album and title it "My Work". Upload only the best of the best of your work to date. Anytime you take a picture that touches you, upload it to that folder. Share images on Twitter, Tumblr, there are so many sites nowadays that touch so many lives. Friend or follow your clients, put your social networking address or follow icons on your site, your blog, your email signature. There is no such thing as over-exposure. If Lady Gaga can get away with fire shooting from her chest, I think a few uploads aren't going to bother anybody.
11. Blast It
Create a Constant Contact account. Send out a newsletter once a month on what you are up to, perhaps offering a discount, a special. Write about your favorite session that month and include some samples from the shoot. See if you have friends with small businesses that are just starting out or could use some exposure and offer to include their logo in your newsletter with a link to their site! Life is about connecting with friends, with clients, and the only way your business will be successful, is if your focus is consistent in regard to the quality of your relationships in life, and helping one another out.
This leads me to the most important aspect of creating your new venture.
12. Live It
Find a cause that genuinely touches you, that takes no effort to love and commit your heart to. Learn about the organization. Request usage of their logo and include them in your promotions. Donate 10% of proceeds of sales of prints to their organization, or have an annual shoot-out with funds going directly to that charity. This must be authentic. Sit and really think about what matters to you and research foundations online until you find one that "fits". See if their director or founder is accessible, email them and inform them of your support and your programs which will include their organization.
My organizations are military related: www.iraqstar.org and www.temperedsteelinc.org
Building a business is not easy, but it can be extremely fulfilling. It gives you an opportunity to connect with your community, to engage with your friends, and to someday look back on something you built with the village it takes to create something truly meaningful.

The Zen of Event Photography

The ZEN of photography

The secret to being a respected event photographer has a lot to do with an ability that few of us think about when we book our first job; The ability to become one with the environment….. This is the "Zen of photography".

It's that feeling that you are so in sync with the world around you that you could sense a misquito about to burp in the other room. It sounds funny, but it’s true. A good photographer captures what’s happening around him. An awesome photographer becomes one with what’s around him, enters the middle realm of reality and grabs the shot from the inside out, essentially grabbing the soul of the moment and holding it for ransom.
Remember the last “great” photograph you took. The one that when you first saw it, it spoke to you. It told you that you alone owned that moment in time. Then, you thought it was kind of cool, so you showed it to a friend and for a moment there was silence, you sat wondering if it was really good or not. Then they said it, “That’s really good…..wow, you know that could be in a magazine. You should enter that in a contest or something….” For a moment, all was right in the world. The economy could crash again and worlds could collide, but for that moment nothing else existed, or mattered. For that moment, you realized you created something special all your own that no one else captured. In some ways, photography is a selfish, lonely existence. The irony is that we make a living providing memories for others people.
The art of photography comes in creating beautiful imagery, but does this come from shooting for the client or shooting for yourself? A respected photographer balances shooting for himself first, and then for the client. I know, this goes against all logic and everything you’ve ever heard about event photography. Of course you must shoot for the client, but don’t forget the reason they hired you: They like your work, they like you, and most of all they trust you. Yes, a successful photographer must be mentally unbalanced to the point that you become 2 people at the same time. One part of you is shooting what FEELS right to you, it’s that sweet spot, that moment when you hit the tennis racket and the ball just pops off through the air and crosses the net perfectly. The other side of you wants to cross-dress, I mean must cross over the aisle to the perpetual aisle and shoot from the head, not the hip. Being able to capture both what you desire and what the client expects, makes a good photographer. Doing both of these things at once, could very well lead to greatness.

My Father and The Porcelain God

Black and white photographs dangled on a string, handcuffed by clothespins over the toilet. This was our darkroom.
 I was 10. Dad loved photography, and the most logical place to conduct the transformation of images to paper was, of course, on a collapsible photo lab above the toilet in our bathroom. It was pretty ingenious actually…developing possibilities above the Porcelain God. The perfect day was a collision in photographic banter huddled in the echoed walls of tangerine formica and tile. I watched him worship imagery, dipping and drenching the 8 x 10 sheets of magic paper into solutions, witnessing images cross the middle realm to the harsh reality of our 1970’s-orange painted bathroom. Ma had painted the bathroom orange to match the box of Tide. Why it was orange still perplexes me. The box of Tide never entered the bathroom.
My father and I had one very important thing in common: the pursuit of the perfect photograph, and my father was the master hunter. He’d arm for the capture with Minolta in hand and a crackling brown leather bag, its buckle bursting with filters and lenses for any possible scenario. Rolls of film marinated in every ASA, color, black and white, slide film.

One of the scariest things I've ever heard him say was, "Real photographers shoot in slides. National Geographic only accepts slides.” Dad was a master at the technical aspect of photography. The actual science of the capture crouched in wait on my father’s tongue, anticipating the moment I might ask a question so he could leap loads of information into my psyche and implant its infinite knowledge within my frontal lobe. This game of proverbial darts never quite hit the bulls-eye. I spent my childhood fascinated by the act of taking pictures and developing images, but running from the attempt to actually understand the process. It somehow seemed if I knew what I was doing, the magic would dissolve into the abyss of that Porcelain God.
Someday I would understand his technical gibberish of aperture and shutter speed, bracketing and focal length…but not yet…I wasn’t ready. I was having too much fun...watching his negatives evolve into prints of Kodak couture. His dewdrops on the flower, the angelic flares in his sunsets, the nature wrangled by his lens.
There is no longer a darkroom. My bathroom is beige. The brown crackled bag sits in my closet, baring fossils of our hunt. I await that perfect day, when he and I sit together again, when the miles contract and the world forgives our temporary retreat into our divided realities. The days of Tide are long behind us, but the memories will linger, dangling gently in my mind, by clothespins.

Becoming The Photographer...

"What made you become a photographer?" A questioned posed as more a curiosity than actually wanting to hear about the emotional gymnastics one must have experienced to make a living shooting people. Photography is the step-child of professions, the stripper on the pole of life. It can be the most beautiful thing in the world, but if the dancer isn't fit and experienced, it's simply painful to watch.
It all started with good intention. Never in my wildest narcoleptic dreams could I have imagined actually making a living at it (not pole-dancing, that's for an entirely different blog). I just liked clicking that button, winding that film, smelling those chemicals (digital really ruined that for me), and watching something evolve from nothing. I didn't ask for much. Until one day someone said to me, you could make a living doing this. I think it was an ex.
Our friends and family love us, they want us to succeed, and they are the first to tell a little white lie to make us feel good about our passion. This may be hard to hear, it’s difficult to even type, because it’s a lesson I had to learn in the beginning and wish I’d had someone to tell me otherwise. The truth is, we all do certain types of photography well in the beginning, but not everything we do is brilliant. The first thing I’d do is get away from your family and get new friends….just kidding.

When I first started shooting professionally, my friends had given me a little too much positive feedback that, in a way, worked against me. The problem was, I was only showing my work to friends, and not to seasoned professionals from whom I could learn. I was not very good. Yes I had instinct, but technically I was worlds away from being as good as my friends said I was. I was blind to the reality of the work I had in front of me. It wasn’t until one of my dearest friends, who happened to work in the entertainment industry, sat me down after a headshot shoot of hundreds of images and she said, “these are acceptable, one of them is great, but where is the brilliance?” This was extremely difficult to hear. I believe a glass of wine followed as I wallowed in what I felt was criticism. In reality, it was a wake-up call. If I wanted to not only be successful, but respected as well, I needed to step it up. Every single image I posted had to be pretty darned close to perfection in all of its potential or I shouldn’t put it up at all. So, there began my quest for artistic vision. What was going to make me stand out from the rest…..?

In order to have a photography business that constantly moves forward, accumulates income, and enhances your quality of life, you need to absolutely accept that photography is not simply a hobby any longer. It must be the primary focus above anything else in your life except for family. All day, every day, every waking moment should find you curious about the world in which you live and how you can capture those moments in a unique way. You need to not only think, but live outside the box of normalcy. When others are going to lunch, you are developing your website, your blog, watching Photoshop tutorials, creating your own actions, learning Lightroom, playing in Bridge, mastering images, shooting friends for free, marketing complimentary services to elementary schools, shooting your children's teachers' families as holiday gifts for all they do. When you have done these things a hundred times, do them again, like a mantra. Your life is about creating imagery, figuring out the market you wish to target, discovering what you are truly gifted at whether it's studio photography, portrait, weddings, editorial. This, by the way can take years to sort out. The only way to truly know where your gift lies, is to do any and every job that comes along whether it seems interesting or not. Say yes to all and work your tail off to do it right. Keep your pricing reasonable, and as soon as you have that "Ahah" moment, of where you know you really are that good, that's when you focus on a field, put on your seatbelt, and get ready for a wild ride. They say it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a star at anything. With that in mind, don't look at this as a sprint. You are in the marathon of your creative psyche and this is a journey which will hopefully last a lifetime (or until you are ready to retire.) Pace yourself, but understand that no-matter how much you love photography, there is somebody around the corner who loves it more, who is fresher and more willing to pay their dues.
The greatest gift you can give yourself, is to find a mentor. Locate a successful photographer through a friend in your area. Most people can offer a personal referral to someone they know who has made ago of their photography business. If they seem successful, there are various reasons why, but one of the most common threads is they’ve learned the art of the edit, the market, and customer service. They’ve learned the practice of sorting through images after a shoot and listening to their gut reaction as to whether an image is good or not, what stirred them upon viewing it. They’ve learned through the reactions of other professionals what is truly a brilliant image, or solid photograph, and what is a smart image to post as it will provide revenue (as these can be two completely different things).
The bottom line is, whether or not you can build a career as a photographer is solely up to you and your actions. If you keep moving forward, if people continue to be attracted to your work, if you open yourself to the mentorship of those who have gone before, and have the willingness to embrace your flaws and give them the ultimate extreme makeover, then yes, you can become the person on the street who is "the photographer".
To be quite frank, it wasn't until not too long ago, when I looked down at my beaten, toughened, sore, achy knuckles...when I realized the inner cradle of my right thumb is now chronically black from the camera body, my skin callused like a dancer's foot, and my hands showing the labors of my love, when I realized that yes, now, I can finally and wholeheartedly say to myself, "I am a photographer".