Summer Days

“Usually, the subject matter of the image is not the subject of the work.” —Roni Horn

Wakefield, Virgina | Kayaks on Van, August 2025

I am reading the book, Photographers On Photography: How The Masters See, Think & Shoot, by Henry Carroll. I bought the book used on ebay with proceeds going to charity, which is one of the best ways to build a personal photography library. I’ve been jotting down quotes that speak to me, marking pages for further reflection and re-reading, and showing the pictures to my husband (there is great variety in the book).

“When I am taking pictures, I just follow my instincts and see where they lead. I often don’t know where they are leading until I see them all together, working towards some common emotional world.” —From an interview with Olivia Bee

I got this line from the book, too. I am a photographer who records everyday moments. This comes in handy as I am often asked what kind of pictures I take. I have long struggled with how to describe the genre of images I make.

A little about his photograph. I took this only a few weeks ago, to finish up a roll of Kodak Portra 400 on my Pentax 645 camera. All summer long I’ve tried to take images that are quintessentially summer. But I have veered all over the place in trying to find my way. There are versions of summer to match each season of my life, but one thing they all have in common is color. The summer I am experiencing now, at age 65, is no longer marked by swimming pools or fireworks or picnics. I am not sad to let go of many of these places and events. Instead I focus on stepping away from my own biases about aging and embrace the understanding that growing old is a privilege. I do not need permission to, nor apology for, aging. I’m not sure if the summer images will form a cohesive body of work, but I do know that I’ve felt a deep sense of purpose in making them. Photography helps me to love more deeply. Isn’t that a beautiful thing?

This Is A True Story

This will sound like a made up story, or at the very least, an embellished one. But I promise you, it is true. The day began as many days do. We decided to take a short day trip down Route 1, heading toward Richmond, with no particular destination or goal other than to have a lunch date together. We pulled over to take pictures of this table and chairs on the porch of an abandoned building where it looked as though repairs or restoration might be in the works.

Route 1, Pull-over, August 2025

The thrift shops in Ashland, Virginia are some of the nicest in the area. They always have an interesting collection of donations; I never know what I might find. The yearbooks caught my eye. They were out of place, not in the book section of the store as I would expect. The graphic illustration on the cover of the one book was simple and yet striking. I did notice that the yearbook was from MCV (Medical College of Virginia), which is where I graduated college. The title, X-Ray, led me to believe the volume might be dedicated to the students of the radiology department. But when I picked up the book to study its contents more carefully, I was totally surprised to see these two volumes included all of the allied health professions, including physical therapy, from the exact years I attended MCV (1981-1983). There I was in the group photograph, tucked in among my classmates! I know that I was one of only two married students in the class. And I also know that I definitely did not have any extra money during that time of my life and would not have even considered purchasing a yearbook. But here was this book with memories of the beginnings of my professional career . . . and the realization that as I pressed on with my life, I never really celebrated that achievement. I was the first member of my family to go to college and the first to pursue a professional career. A classic over-achiever, I was valedictorian of my college class. There is a long story behind my need to be perfect, to achieve and strive, to always go above and beyond, and this is all rooted in the protective patterns I developed as a child. Looking back now, I am able to understand my ambition and feel proud of myself. This might actually be the first time I’ve allowed myself to sit with those feelings from so long ago. I won’t say the donated yearbooks were meant for me, but I will say I am glad I found them.

Medical College of Virginia, Yearbooks, 1982 and 1983

Can You Spot Me? Top photo, left side, second row from the bottom

This story is pretty amazing, all on its own. But there is more. As we continued our adventure, we stopped at Class and Trash in Ashland—another great shop with a mix of antiques, handmade items, vintage treasures, home decor, and junk. I always walk the perimeter of this store outside before entering because there are often photographic opportunities. I couldn’t believe it when I noticed the large green metal sign from William & Mary leaning against the side porch. The sign read, Millington Hall, 500 Landrum Drive. We recognized the sign immediately because both Dave and I attended William & Mary. We both majored in Biology, and most of our core classes were held in Millington Hall! We had heard that the old science building had been torn down to make room for more modern classrooms. It’s a wonder that the sign ended up here.

William & Mary, Millington Hall Sign, at Class and Trash, August 2025

I’m not a person who looks for signs that things are right. I believe there are multiple good choices for most situations and that we humans have a profound ability to justify our decisions. When I can’t decide between two good things, sometimes I just flip a coin and go with it. And things usually work out pretty well. But it was still a treat to experience a day where we could see the origin, the path, and the destination. All in one day, like a movie reel of our lives together.

Making A Book From A Blog

Donna Hopkins Photography | Blog Books by Pixxibook | Volumes 1-5 | 2020 - 2023

Thank you to my friend Cathy for introducing me to the company PixxiBook, a design and printing service that transforms your blog or instagram reel into a physical book.

To be honest, I’ve never been particularly inclined to produce a book of my blog since this space is kind of unpredictable and often a mess. Over the years, my blog has had several titles. I began on blogger in 2010, where I wrote and shared pictures under the title, Pic Me Up. In 2016, I moved to squarespace with a website and blog, Like Medicine For Me. In that space, I worked through the grief of my mother’s dementia, taking and posting a photograph every day for an entire year. It was a hard year, but a good one in many ways. At the end of that year-long work, the blogging process had become a part of my life, and I wasn’t ready to step away. I continued blogging under the title, Coming To My Senses, using the power of picture-taking to calm and soothe my weary spirit. I found my voice, in the pictures and the practice, where the pictures mirrored my growth. Or maybe the pictures prompted the growth. All I know is that photography and healing moved in lock-step, gently walking me to a safer and more loving life. Finally, the titles all dropped away, and the website became simply me and my name. The blog part of the website has been called many things—a journal, a sketchbook, a notebook—but they are all the same things really. Letters to myself. Dear Donna, Here’s what I am thinking about. Here is what I am learning.

It’s difficult for me to imagine what the purpose of a book of my blog might serve. My mother had a sentence she liked to pull out like a trump card, whenever she wanted a little extra love or respect or reassurance . . . and it was mostly some version of you’re gonna miss me when I die. Everyone wants to be remembered. And while I do think my sons may reflect on my life when I die, and these books in some measure might be my legacy, I am not at all sure that is a sufficient reason. I’ve browsed in enough thrift shops to know that much of what we consider important ends up donated and living in someone else’s home. I find this observation comforting. There is something reassuring about holding our own hand and letting go of an inflated sense of self-importance. So what then is the reason to make a book of my blog?

The books are simply a celebration. They make my husband so very happy. Now. Not in some future where I am dead and gone. He loves to look back at the pictures I’ve taken (which are really OUR pictures) and he gleefully exclaims, remember when we went there? The books are a gift to him. A way to say thank you for understanding me in a way that no one else could, or would ever want to. Making him happy makes me happy, so deciding to spend money on the blog books was an easy YES.

A short and sweet review for Pixxibook.

  • Ease of use: 10/10. The process is incredibly easy. I linked to my website and Pixxibook indexed every page and created the books within minutes!

  • Pricing: 10/10. Affordable and reasonable.

  • Quality: 8/10. The paper is thick and not at all see-through. The photographs are printed with stunning quality. The printed text is a little soft, not as sharp as I would like. There are some issues with placement of pictures and text and cropping, but this is to be expected for an automated process (not deal breakers for me). I LOVED being able to customize the covers (I would do the spines a little differently now that I see how they could be improved). The cover colors are vibrant and bright but not garish. The books hold up to 300 pages, but after having held the books in my hands, I’d try to keep at less than that - maybe 200 or so (I think this would improve the longevity of the book). I had so many posts in 2022 that I divided that year into two volumes. The book for 2023 has exactly 300 pages and it is too heavy for me lift with one hand.

  • Shipping: 9/10. The turnaround time is only 2 weeks and the books arrived via UPS. A couple of the books were a little crimped at the corners. This might have been from jostling during shipping, but I suspect it was more an issue of a big book with the maximum of 300 pages and the limits of the product for the price point.

  • Satisfaction: 10/10

Perfect Days and Picture Ways

Perfect Days. Today was a perfect day. Overcast and only 70 degrees (rare for a summer day in Virginia). I had a long phone conversation with a dear friend I’ve known since we were six years-old. It is reassuring to have a relationship with someone who has known you for nearly your whole life. Dave and I went out to a new-to-us coffee shop and enjoyed very special lattes. I had a haircut from a lovely and talented stylist (I still look the same, but it was nice to be cared for in this way). Then I spent the afternoon working on a photo project. We have an easy supper planned with grilled chicken and roasted potatoes and corn on the cob. Then we’ve planned to visit not just one, but two, libraries in our area this evening. Or maybe we’ll just stay home and watch season 3 of The Guilded Age. There is nothing spectacular about this day, but the slow rhythm of simple joys feels like the best gift ever.

Picture Ways. Sometimes it’s fun to go through my archives and see what I’ve missed. There are often well composed images that I did not know how to edit creatively or correctly. Sometimes there are folders of images that I never got around to culling. I love to group the images and create collections. I have in mind to print these gardening-themed photographs as groups of note cards or postcards or maybe small sets of everyday prints from Artifact Uprising to give as gifts.

The Soft Pink Series

The Red, Yellow, Teal Series

The Orange Series

The Bright Series