Slow Exposures Adventures

We’re in Zebulon, Georgia for the Slow Exposures 20th Anniversary show!

Through the course of three days, September 15th - September 17th, there will be nine distinctive photography exhibitions throughout Pike County—all set in historic buildings. At the Main Show at Strickland's in Concord there will be 87 images by photographers from across the U.S. chosen by Jurors Alexa Dilworth and Aline Smithson.

These are my photographs that were accepted for the show.

I am excited and nervous. There is so much about this entire experience that is new and challenging. If I’m honest, I wanted to back-out, and there were plenty of reasonable excuses. Travel is expensive. I live with chronic pain and while I am making good progress, I never know when my back or my neck or feet may fail me. (If you live with any combination of these pains, please reach out and ask me about how therapy based on Postural Restoration has changed my life!).

But I can do hard things.

So here we are.

I’m looking forward to the Pop-Up shows including a few of my favorites — Sal Taylor Kydd and The Kinship Photography Collective. I recently joined The Kinship Photography Collective, and the work presented by members Ruth Steinberg and Beatte Sass moved me deeply. I’m looking forward to participating in all of the scheduled events of the show, learning and sharing.

Towels on Clothesline, 2022

Betty’s Inn, 2022

This Little Piggy

We’ve eaten at a lot of local barbecue places. They each have their own style and flavor. But one thing they all have in common is some sort of pig-related decor. I’m not a big barbecue eater because it gives me heartburn, but I love my husband and he loves barbecue.

Here’s a list of our favorites.

  • Virginia Barbecue, Richmond, VA

  • Allman’s Bar-B-Que, Fredericksburg, VA

  • Northern Neck BBQ at the Barn, Montross, VA

  • Pierce’s Pitt Bar-B-Que, Williamsburg, VA

Three Visions

These three photos were all taken on the same day, within an hour of each other so the light was pretty consistent. Same camera. Same film. A walk around my hometown, where I think I’ve seen all there is to see. I am persistent and take pictures even though I’m not sure any of them will be any good. I stay curious and open and willing to use film for practice.

In one photo the grass is soft, like a blanket laid out before the driftwood arch to Monroe Bay. The scene looks like an invitation. To a wedding, a celebration, a solemn promise to oneself or to another.

In the next photo the grass is crunchy. The small clump of zinnias hang on, persistent through the drought at summer’s end. Weeds intermix with blossoms. The fence line makes a harsh shadow across the grass and little stepping stones fight to maintain their place. The scene looks like survival.

In the last photo of the trio, the waves of the Potomac River lap at the shore. The sky is changing with clouds rolling in and the hope of rain to come. The sea grass leans into the wind. The scene looks like relief or some version of saving grace.

From the Recyle Bin

The recycle bin on my computer is not the same thing as trash. It’s mostly the place where pictures go to await a second chance. I had impulsively deleted an entire roll of film scans taken with my Yashica T4. The exposures seemed off. It looked like they might require “work,” and I am rarely willing to work hard to polish a picture that just isn’t good to begin with. The subjects were things I’ve photographed many, many times. Why not just let them go?

Because there are days when I just want to work because work gives life meaning. Sometimes people ask me what I do with “all those pictures” that I make. This question always throws me for a loop. I don’t make them to do anything with them. I make them for the process, for the layers and colors and shapes and meaning of it all.