I have been writing about the photo reception that I was to speak at last night.
There were 20 people, which is not a huge crowd but enough to make me nervous.
I just started talking. I knew most of the people there but technically I was alone.
No person, no best friend ( they both had to work), no family. I was there on my own. Talking about my “journey”.
I talked about the darkest days of my life, I talked about the person who makes a huge difference in my life, daily. I talked about how something I did to survive turned into something I loved to do. I open up my heart and spilled my guts in front of these people. My voice shook, but I told them the truth about my life.
I spoke from where I live. I live from my heart. I am guided by this organ that’s primary job is to pump blood yet we humans like to refer to in as that place where our soul resides. Maybe we should say that we speak from our soul instead of our heart.
I spoke for an hour and a half. Surprisingly, I went to a place where I wasn’t nervous, which tends to happen. I am frantic until that time then, I do fine.
I spoke about as a woman of 43, I had to begin to figure out who I was.
There was some audience comments during the talk. One lady said “Don’t ever tell me you are not a public speaker ever again”. Another lady said when I was listing off the standard, I am a daughter, a widow, a friend, a sister, an aunt, a great aunt, a librarian, a photographer part of my speech and she said You are You!!
I spoke about how photography is an art form and thanks to my person reminded them that it is not about what you see, it is about what you make them see.
I spoke about doing weddings and how they make me nervous because there are no do overs.
I talked about how my coach, my person had been there for me during this process of growing in this medium and how if you want to get my righteous indignation up, look and one of my images and say that’s great!! What kind of camera do you use?? I compared it to someone asking an author what kind of pen he uses to write his books. Not a single one of them wrote themselves, someone held the pen or sat at the keyboard. Same with photography, some human is holding that camera and mashing that button.
I spoke about the hours I had put into learning this craft. How many things I had attended to just get in practice so I could get better. How I shucked out $5.00 every ball game to take photos of peoples kids to never sell a one. I was honest.
So it was good. One thing would have made it better, but I can’t say that out loud or maybe I should. Maybe I should just look at him and say Yes it was good, I just wish you could have been there then it would have been perfect but I know you had to work.
Maybe next time, if there ever is a next time.