The Images That Made Me | No. 5

January 19, 2025 by Donna Hopkins

In my last few entries, I’ve shared the images that most influenced my development as a photographer and artist. Those images that helped me learn to see differently. But, there is, of course, another entire subset of photographs that made me the person I am, by which I mean pictures from my childhood—parents and siblings, snapshots of family dinners, vacations, birthdays, and the like. The equivalent of today’s Instagram feed. The images that make us who we are overlap and intersect, compete and combine, and contribute to the way we see ourselves, how we talk to and treat ourselves.

For this fifth and final entry, I’ve chosen a small stack of film pictures of my husband, Dave, when he was a little boy. Dave’s family had a friend and neighbor named Mr. Pepper. Mr. Pepper was an amateur photographer who took his hobby seriously. He always had his 35mm camera at the ready. Out behind his modest home in Colonial Beach, Virginia, Mr. Pepper had a shed where he developed his film and printed his pictures. He often took snapshots where my husband and his younger sister were the subjects.

About 10 years into our marriage, my mother-in-law was cleaning out and and asked if I’d like to have some old pictures of Dave. I said yes (not wanting to hurt her feelings), but secretly wondered what I would do with another stack of not-so-great snapshots. I was surprised when she handed the pictures to me. Beautiful black and white 5 inch X 7 inch prints. My husband, all boy, in each of the images. Not self-conscious at all, his goofy little self shinning from within. This was the man I fell in love with, and I could see why.

These images made me in more than one way. I could plainly tell the difference between these gorgeous prints and the careless point-and-shoot photos I was taking at the time. I was swept off my feet by film and pictures to hold. I saw how the picture was not only about the subject, but also, the person taking the picture. I could feel the difference between an authentic shot and a forced one. I could plainly see that Mr. Pepper shot from his heart, and even though I never met him, I loved him for making these pictures.

But I chose these pictures for more than these reasons. Because they remind me that the person I chose to live my life with will always, by some measure, that little boy who was happy simply being himself. I’ve seldom experienced that kind of relationship with myself. Instead, I spent years striving and trying and fixing. He’s the one who taught me how to enjoy myself. There is that old trope of the tortured artist making poignant art from trauma and heartache. And I guess that is true enough. But isn’t it also true that we can make meaningful art from contentment and joy? I hope so.

The Images That Made Me | No. 4

January 18, 2025 by Donna Hopkins

Conversations by Mark Forbes from his book Collected Memories, published in 2024, is one of the images that made me. More accurately, his photograph validated the way I see the world and gave me reassurance to continue to trust my own intuition. I look at a lot of photographs, always with respect and admiration, often being moved by the work, but only rarely with the pull to create something similar. Or the recognition that I have already created similar work—though often not as good—but still on the right track. Studying this image makes it possible for me to create images that are stronger and more meaningful. Good photographs are a scaffold, a framework, for me to build upon.

This photograph of a quiet place to sit is like heaven for me. I am easily distracted by noises, irritated by harsh lights, and pained by uncomfortable furniture. Corners like this one—filled with natural light or the softness of light from a lamp, chairs soft and plump, with table for coffee or tea—make for an intimate setting for thoughtful conversation. I seek spaces like this one, preferring them to any restaurant, coffee shop or counter, in real life and in my photographs. I picture myself in this vignette and I feel right at home.

This may be one of the images that made me, but Mark’s entire body of work in Collected Memories is the style I am most drawn to these days. Medium format film and Kodak Portra color are my love languages. Truly.

The Images That Made Me | No. 3

January 17, 2025 by Donna Hopkins

There is simply no way to consider the photographs that made me without including the photographic collaboration by Maria Alexandra Vetesse (MAV) and Stephanie Congdon, A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart. These two women who lived 3191 miles apart, one in Portland, Maine and the other in Portland, Oregon, posted images from their morning routines side-by-side every day for a year.

A YEAR OF MORNINGS - 3191 MILES APART, MARIA VETESSE AND STEPHANIE CONGDON [2007]

It began like this: On December 6, 2006, MAV emailed Steph with two images side by side—each image taken by one of the women—and posted the diptych to the photo sharing site Flickr that morning. MAV asked Stephanie, “Do you want to do a project?” That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and a collection of images that serves as a meditation on gratitude and compassion.

These photographs introduced me to the realization that my ordinary life could be seen as art. Where every little moment could be photo-worthy. This was the place and the time where I began to cultivate the habit of observation without judgment. Where home was seen as a palace and the routines of the day, art hung on a gallery wall.

The collaborative aspect of this project reminded me just how desperately we all need to feel as though we belong, to feel connected to someone. I’ve looked for opportunities to work in this way ever since. My projects, For the Time Being, From Here to There, and Natural Histories can all be traced back to these two women who showed me how to unlock the power of working with true friends, bound by trust and elasticity.

But there was something else about this work that resonated with me. That creative work could be healing work. I recall reading that for MAV, that year was a difficult one. Newly divorced, she was learning to live alone and by her own account, the mornings project saved her from a deep depression. There were days when she was too sad or lonely to shoot, and the project paused while she took a breath. I’ve been in this place, too. Haven’t we all? Sometimes we cannot abate the pain a friend must endure, but we can witness it. Maybe that is all we can do.

Maria Vetesse is currently facing a life-altering health crisis. She was diagnosed with bacterial endocarditis in September 2024 and while awaiting surgery to repair a heart valve, she suffered a stroke. When I read this news, I wept. As a former physical therapist, I know the journey that lies ahead of her and it is arduous. I hope that MAV finds the comfort I have by learning that you can accept reality while still working for change. You can read about and support MAV’s recovery on her GoFundMe page.

The Images That Made Me | No. 2

January 16, 2025 by Donna Hopkins

This is how it all started.

Rebecca Curtis and I first met and established a friendship when we were published together in the Autumn 2015 Issue of Artful Blogging. There’s really a bit more to the story. I went through that issue carefully and reached out to every featured photographer. It was a short note to say hello, to acknowledge their work, and to make new connections. Some people wrote back and friendships took root. Rebecca wrote back. I began to follow her work and fell in love with her deeply moving photographs and her honest writing about her life. Rebecca had begun a daily practice of photography and writing, aiming to continue for the entire year, 2016. It took a while for me to build up the courage to start my own daily project. I started my 365 Project, Like Medicine For Me, in March 2016.

The idea behind the 365 Challenge was to bring practice and discipline to our photography and to foster our own artistic growth. But behind the scenes of our daily posts, we exchanged hundreds of emails, letters of truth and encouragement that revealed both the light and shadow of our inner lives. Our correspondence illuminated the struggles we faced through the project: finding our inner voice over taking in outside influence, facing fears, accepting rather that avoiding discomfort, embracing imperfection, and learning self-acceptance.

Our experience of working through 365 projects alongside one another culminated in an article we co-wrote for Bella Grace, Issue 10, Winter 2017.

A Year’s Worth.

It was hard to choose just one of Rebecca’s images that made me. Her photographs from that year read like a treasured novel, one where you can’t wait to turn the next page and yet slow your reading because you don’t want the experience to end. This is how I felt about her work.

With The Quiet Light, I learned that light alone might be subject of the photo. I began to appreciate careful composition and the arrangement of elements within the frame. Rebecca’s images were often moody and soft and characteristically Leica. Like glimpses or whispers or gentle invitations. Through her work, my own work began to evolve. I tried to emulate her style, make it my own in some way. Even though I was the older of the two of us, I was the beginner. Her voice was more developed than mine. She knew herself and I did not. But during the course of that year, there was a seismic shift in my work and the beginnings of a long journey of healing. Work that was worthwhile in every way. I will always love The Quiet Light.