Julie Rivera...a camera, some kids and my life

The Prism of Childhood

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 16:24:00 +0000

I wage an internal war with my ability to mother. Okay, it isn't at all internal. My family sees it quite plainly every other week or so, as the pendulum of my sanity swings from stable to unstable in the blink of an eye.

I had a tremendous childhood. Not perfect, mind you, but one that fills me with many happy memories when I choose to reflect upon it. And naturally, I want to recreate that for my girls. I want them to be on a sports team. I want them to feel free to be silly. I want them to play outside and breathe deeply of the cold winter air. I want them to have what I had.

And I am lackluster, at best, in providing it. I find every reason why signing my 5 year old up for a team would be too much effort. For me. I stifle the silly escapades of my gleeful, happy girls, craving the silence that is nectar to my soul. I abstractly wave off requests to go outside and play fairies in the field across the street. Because I am right in the middle of a really good book.

And they will be young forever.

And they will never stop asking to be the center of my attention.

And my quiet repulsions of their lavishly bestowed love will not sting their tiny hearts.

What dawned upon me is that I am chasing a dream. I see my memories through the prism of childhood. I do not see the sacrifices my mother made to drive my sisters and me to this lesson or that lesson. I do not see the multiple times she laid aside her own interests to help me pursue my own.

I simply feel her love. I feel her pride in me. I feel her eternal connection to my struggles and my triumphs.

Maybe my method will be different from how my mother shared her love. Maybe I am not capable of doing it just as she did.

Sometimes, though, it is not so much about the how.

Praise

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 17:24:00 +0000

I shut down for about a month. I changed the settings on my blog so it was invisible. I deactivated my Facebook account. I totally surrendered my website and domain name. I barely touched my camera.

I hid myself from the world. Julie Rivera, Photographer, died a sudden, invisible death.

I was amazed at the amount of time I had to myself. No blog to worry over. No Facebook friends to catch up with. No articles to read. No videos to watch. Certainly no emails from prospective clients to hope for.

I read four books. Adult books. No pictures included.

I unhurriedly laid with my 2 year old at bedtime, singing multiple renditions of "Jesus Loves Me," until she fell asleep for the first two nights in her newly converted toddler bed. I wasn't mentally calculating my strategy in escaping the room and hopping on the computer for 15 minutes before her sister's bedtime. I just settled in for as long as it took. I was a mother. No caveat, no hyphenated title. And it felt satisfyingly simple.

Yet, I still had a struggle. Despite the peaceful, easy flow of my family life during this last month, I felt I was missing something.

Almost shamefully, I confessed to myself that I needed applause. I needed to know I existed outside the realm of daily motherhood. I wanted to know that I resonated with someone, anyone, outside my small sphere of The Rivera Family of Five. So it was acknowledged. And accepted, though begrudgingly. I wish I didn't relish praise as much as I do. It seems prideful or embarrassing or negative somehow.

I activated my Facebook account on Saturday. I took pictures on Monday. Again on Tuesday. And today. I finally wrote this post with many starts, stops and deletions.

I won't hear that I was a good mother until my children are grown with children of their own. I know this because that is when I finally, fully realized what an amazing job my own mother did. But I do not have the wherewithal to wait 25 years before hearing I am good at something. I need something to tide me over when the rambunctiously well intentioned dance-a-thon in front of the television results in a two child pile up.

I will again toss out these bits of myself, the self that sees the early morning fog and dashes out to capture it before it is time to drive off to school. I will do it for me. And I am happy it you choose to tag along.

While I was surfing...

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 18:01:00 +0000

Honestly, she plays well by herself. While she was entertained with an alphabet puzzle, I was surfing the internet for amazing Christmas deals. In between scouring Amazon and LL Bean's stocking stuffer gift ideas, I felt a tap on my leg.

And I heard a new word. An undecipherable word, delivered with the lisping agility of my two year old.

I looked down and quickly put the pieces together.

She can now say, "Painting." And she is rather smug about her skills...both artistic and linguistic.

Mental Image

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 13:15:00 +0000

I do a lot of thinking. Envisioning how events "should" go. Walking through future moments, trying to alleviate any potential problem by excessive prior planning.

Where I fail is in verbalizing these much contemplated plans. No one else is privy to my well constructed, beautifully crafted perfection of an outing. And no one else really cares about my flaw-free mental image.

For I am surrounded by spontaneous free spirits who do not share my love of detail.

When I set out yesterday with my girls, dressed in coordinating little outfits, I had a specific image in my mind's eye. A sweet moment with the two darling cuddlebugs sitting side by side on a set of steps, holding hands. Fallen leaves would adorn the background, the well placed garland and Christmas bows adding a delightful splash of color.

That scenario was not even remotely achieved. My mental image was a complete failure. But the real thing, the thing I have learned to allow myself to enjoy more than the mental image, was wonderful. I was out with my girls, frolicking on one of the last temperate days before winter closes in. I watched as one collected rocks and the other tried to make crafts with leaves and gumballs. I saw the daring of the big one imitated by the little one. I heard happy laughter.

The real thing is so much better than my over-thought ideas. For the plans never seem to include happy laughter.

Gridiron

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 17:31:00 +0000

I was holding a half eaten bag of cotton candy and wearing a homemade Wow, Wow Wubbzy scarf that my daughter shed earlier in the first quarter. I failed miserably at trying to blend in as a member of the press. Surprisingly, though, no one shooed me away from my spot 5 feet from the field's sideline.

There are some distinct advantages to living in a small town.

The half time show was an impeccable performance by the United States Army Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps. As an unwavering fan of military pomp and circumstance, I am being afforded so many rich and wonderful opportunities during my husband's tour at VMI.

Passage

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 14:19:00 +0000

This week marked Ring Figure for the juniors at VMI. As an outsider, I can't fully appreciate what this event signifies. I caught hints of stories of excess, of an unabashed freedom uncommon to this regimented school, of craziness that only college students can tolerate. But I also saw the pride of these new ring bearers as they cast frequent glances at the unfamiliar weight on their hand, comparing theirs with fellow classmates, shaking the large, traditional ring that unites them with all past and future Brother Rats. They crossed a threshold. And I could tell it felt good.

This week was also the last football game of the season, marking the last tailgate out on the parade field and the last pre-football parade. The cadets were decked out in their "Overcoat Full Dyke" uniform, perhaps the finest one I have yet seen.

As you will see below, the band played some rousing marches that were thoroughly enjoyed by my free spirited daughter. (It was all I could do to control her during the Star Spangled Banner. We will work on patriotic etiquette this week.)

Desaturation

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 19:16:00 +0000

It drizzled yesterday. It rained today. It was grey. It was breezy. The breeze knocked the raindrops from the dying leaves.

The color is draining from my view. The dampness is ominous, heralding an unavoidable drop in temperatures. The world is shedding its last hints of fall splendor. The world is desaturating.

Pockets

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 19:27:00 +0000

The keepers of money. Holders of "nandy corn." Impossibly difficult to get hands into. A must have on this season's fashions for this new 2 year old.

8 AM

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 20:05:00 +0000

Rushed, I threw a sweatshirt over my head, wound a scarf crazily around my neck, pulled the ill fitting knit cap over my unbrushed hair and threw my camera and lenses into the car. I started the ignition and waited for the engine to warm up. Agitated, eager to get on my way, I pulled out of the driveway before the rear windshield was thoroughly defrosted.

It wasn't until I parked the car near a small stream that I slowed down. Out of the car, the air was still. The early freeze was melting on the fall leaves that covered the ground as I silently walked down the road, looking for loveliness.

8 am holds a lot of lovely.

Falling

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 17:11:00 +0000

Isn't it incredible, how the leaves are so magnificent in the last days of their life?

How they fill the countryside with their bright hues, almost as a rebuke towards the coming descent to the forest floor, where they will become a brown carpet of decay?

I am forced to wonder if I am unknowingly past the brightest time in my own life. Is it only as I tumble from the tree and slowly flutter to the ground that I realize the best is behind me? Or can I be keenly aware of this in the moment?

Dancing

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 14:19:00 +0000

"The music moves me. It just moves me ugly." Willam H. Macy in Wild Hogs

I used to love dancing. I wasn't great; I wasn't ever going to battle someone in a NY club, but if I closed my eyes and assumed the White Man's Overbite, I thought I could hold my own in any college town bar. My sisters and I held dance parties in our living room, assaulting our parents with the classiest songs from my Booty Shakin' Hits CD. Way back, when I was MUCH younger (read the mid-teen years), my younger sister and I crafted elaborate dance routines in the rain with umbrellas. We were smart enough to restrict these presentations to the back yard, but we secretly hoped for national acclaim for our newly discovered dance style.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped dancing. In fact, I stopped doing many things that were done simply for the joy of the doing. If there wasn't a clearly defined purpose, I wasn't inclined to participate.

Then I look at my beautiful children. Easily, 85% of their activity is done just to make themselves happy. To express the joy that bubbles out of their very being. They are effervescent, free, uninhibited.

The music still moves them. Ungracefully, awkwardly, but oh so magically! The beauty lies simply in the willingness to be moved.

The Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 00:18:00 +0000

I lost my way.

Since I was 16, I loved photography. I never fancied myself an artist; in fact, the only class I cried in during college was my Intro to Drawing. During the charcoal lessons. I despised being there and knew deep within me I was never, ever intended to be an artist.

But photography? Well, that was entirely different. That didn't require me to be an artist, complete with my preconceived notions of beret wearing, cigarette smoking, philosophically speaking strange people. I could simply capture what I encountered.

I did just that. I captured what I encountered from about 1993 until 2005 and trapped it all within 55 albums, now neatly arranged in my bedroom. I photographed flowers, buildings, landscapes, abstract shapes, the amazing views I found in Italy, Spain and Greece. I did very little portrait work. It wasn't my passion.

It is so easy to see now, as I look back through those albums. Portraiture was never my passion.

But somehow, I spent the last three years honing my portraiture skills. I know why. I felt it was where the money was. Yes, I would tell people, I love other types of photography, but the money is in portraits. Family and children primarily. I sold my passion. And, as I look back, the sale was pretty cheap.

Portrait work became a double edged sword for me. I loved, absolutely thrilled myself, when I managed to get THE shot from a family session. But I never knew if I was going to deliver that shot. I always felt terribly inadequate before and after a session. I secretly hoped I would get a call saying someone in the family was sick and we would have to postpone. The stress overcame the pleasure, the doubts outweighed everything and I stepped back from what I was doing.

I decided to return to shooting for myself. Photographing what I saw, the way I saw it. I flipped my camera from RAW to jpeg. I lightened my hand in photoshop. I didn't mind if my work was all over the place, showing trees and buildings and people. I needed to rekindle the desire to shoot freely, expressively and experimentally.

I don't know where this path will lead or if there will ever be a Julie Rivera Photography again. But I feel it is the right path to be on.

My way has been found. I am not at all lost.

Driving

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 15:48:00 +0000

I drove today. Drops of rain fell half heartedly from the heavy skies, but I knew this would be the best light in which to catch the fall colors, burning with such intensity.

I drank in the majesty of this season. The tree trunks were almost black with moisture, while the leaves shimmered with water.

I turned when I felt like it and ambled through the back roads. I saw everything. Really saw it. Felt it. Smiled at the twisting road, silently thanking it for curving so beautifully, rising and falling, leading me through this bounty of nature.

I can't tell you how many roads I photographed. Each one seemed better than the one before. Maybe not better. Just unique. And splendid. And deserving of a photograph. Honestly, though, I struggled with how to best capture what I saw. It was almost too wonderful. Too broad. No way to pare it down to fit my image.

Where my camera may have failed, I strained to engrave the scenes in my mind's eye. The sweeping vista of rolling hills trailing off towards the horizon, a farm or two dotting the foreground, gentle wisps of late fog weaving its way upwards out of the tree line. I couldn't photograph it right. But I can remember it perfectly.

I was no more than 10 miles from home. Driving. Photographing. Feeling.

Payment

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 15:43:00 +0000

The price of a child's affection:

One fruit snack...

equals one kiss.

Transaction complete.

(Technical specs: 85mm/1.8, ISO 640, 1/800, f/3.5)

Unfettered

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 01:55:00 +0000

I have laid in bed drafting this blogpost in my head for the past week. I get a sentence. A phrase. A thought. I want to be meaningful and deep. But concise, for I figure not many have the patience for my meaningful and deep thoughts. And then I fall asleep, blogpost unscripted, the days rolling over me, depth and meaning cast aside for survival and motherhood.

This blog began as a part of my business of photography. It has never existed outside that purpose of advertising my work and sharing controlled bits of who I am so I can entice potential clients to hire me over the thousands of other photographers out there.

Today, it exists simply to exist. The business is gone. The photographer remains. I might have readers. I might not. I could be screaming into the darkest night, but I would still have the need to scream. The need to gather my thoughts through word and picture.

I am free to explore photography for the simple sake of loving a pretty picture. A well captured moment. A perspective that might not be common to all. I don't have to be careful about which images are "blog worthy" for fear it might not represent my "style" to all those potential clients I no longer seek. I can throw any picture I want on here.

I am unfettered in my pursuit of photography. And it is wide and free and almost scary with its possibilities.

I am now simply Julie. I think I will figure out what that means exactly with the help of my camera and these words I type into my blog.

Today :: Lexington, VA Children's Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 17:55:00 +0000

They are exactly 13 months apart, my daughter and my niece. Conceivably (ha!), they could both be mine. One running. One tottering. One aggressively bum rushing the other with hugs. Both falling into a heap. One using the pacifier. The other trying to steal it.

All.day.long.

But this isn't my every day. This is today. The day I am repaying my sister for all her generosity and kindness and rescuing when I needed it. For her today looks nothing like my today.

Her today is filled with excitement and romance and reconnecting with her husband as they enjoy their first weekend away from their precious baby girl.

And my today...well, my today is filled with toys and toys and books and juggling and feeding and laundry and dishes and lots and lots of holding folks.

Oh. And some photography.

I Heart Faces, Week of Sept 19 :: Touch of Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sun, 18 Sep 2011 23:50:00 +0000

I don't often get to play in that delightful hour just before sunset when the sun is dipping low in the sky and you can have your heart's fill of sun flare and backlighting and silhouettes. You see, dinner usually happens about that time. And baths. And crankiness. And fatigue. And all the things that least make me want to pick my camera up.

But in summer?

Oh, in summer, when the sun stays so high in the sky so many minutes after all those chores. And I find that my daughter is feeling congenial and smiley and cooperative. It is in those fleeting moments that I am touched by the evening sun. Rewarded with a stolen reverie within my daughter's constant motion.

I am eager to see all the times of day represented during this week's I Heart Faces' challenge. If you would like to enter, click the button below!

I Heart Faces, Week of Sept 12 :: Back to School!

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 23:38:00 +0000

Older women, as they smile at my littlest one in the grocery store, almost always follow that smile with a warning to savor these early years. To hold on to her hand as long as possible for it goes by all too quickly. I chuckle and give the almost reflex answer, as I start pushing my cart down the aisle, "Yes, I know. Isn't this time so precious?"

But inside I am hoping the hour in the grocery store flies by. And there is no crying. And then I start to wonder why this day feels so long. And why my kids talk so much. And why they can't entertain themselves.

Then I see this. I see my stepson with only two more years at home. Two years of high school before stepping out into the great unknown of life. I see my daughter eager to tear off down the street to her first day of kindergarten. And I see the baby of the group, looking up at her brother, confused about where he is going and why he won't be around to play. I know she will be leaving next. And those ladies at the grocery store are right. It will come too soon.

But I will only really know that after it happens.

Be sure to share your back to school memories over at I Heart Faces by clicking the link below:

Today I Saw a Parade :: Virginia Military Institute Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 23:56:00 +0000

Today I saw a parade. A beautifully executed parade. The marching commands and facing movements were the same as they have been for centuries. The uniforms were the same as they have been for centuries.

The faces were new.

And so young.

I couldn't help but think of the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks as I watched cadet after cadet fill the parade field, heads held proudly, firm footfalls guiding their course. They entered knowing we are a country at war. They know they might deploy. And still they stand there. Ready to answer their country's call. Faithfully. Unwaveringly.

Today I saw the greatness of our nation embodied. Today I saw a parade.

Wonderful :: The Homestead, Virginia Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 15:23:00 +0000

One of the greatest fears I have as a photographer is photographing another photographer and her family. She will recognize all my ploys to make the children smile. She will question my thinking when I ask them to do this or that. She will scrutinize my camera equipment. She will...

But you know what? She didn't.

Instead, she met me in a rush, offering apologies for being late, saying she forgot how hard it is to get a whole family dressed and ready and she will never again complain about her clients being late for their sessions. In her defense, though, she had her family dressed to perfection. She had snacks on hand to help happiness abound. She knew to offer her reticent husband a libation before we started. In a word, she set me up for success. She knew what I would need and she offered it all on a silver platter.

And to her, I offer this glimpse of a vibrant, energetic, beautiful family. A family I was delighted to meet at their annual getaway at the majestic Homestead in Hot Springs, Virginia. What better place for pictures than the spot they have vacationed since their honeymoon? The place where they relax, unwind and really reconnect as a family?

The day was wonderful. The session was wonderful. My fears were silly.

One Year Ago Today :: Personal

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 14:46:00 +0000

My mind likes numbers. I think it fun to find patterns in license plate numbers (like 278: 27 is 3 cubed and 8 is 2 cubed. Neat, huh? No? Dorky? That's what my family thinks, too.). I am able to remember dates and all the little things that happen in the history of my family.

Some of them are not so little.

Like August 26, 2010. I photographed it. Then I blogged about it. And it was one of the most meaningful posts I have ever done.

Today, though, one year later, is so very different. Instead of trying to fill the hours before the buses collected all the soldiers, I complained to my husband about how strong the scent of his new deodorant is. I bathed my daughter before school. I enjoyed coffee before heading to the gym for a workout. And I will welcome my husband home at the end of this day. Not 6 months from now. Today. In a few hours.

I have to remind myself today, when I start feeling aggravated by whatever small grievance I might have with how Daddy gets the girls ready for bed or how he is willing to get them all riled up with tickles and laughter and vocal love, that it could be otherwise. He could be gone. I could be doing this alone. And I will consciously remember the very long days of single parenting and think of all the other moms I still know who are enduring that life right now. And I will be thankful. Actively thankful.

Life is always quirky and bumpy and harder to handle some days. But I am blessed today with a complete family. Living under one roof. Sharing the ins and outs of the day to day. It is simple. And it is wonderful.

15 millimeters of fun :: Lexington, Virginia Children Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 16:14:00 +0000

Photographer friends are the best. A photographer friend who was also your best friend in high school is the VERY bestest. Because she is willing to hand over a lens and then drive home, 3.5 hours away. Without asking for collateral. 20 years of friendship earns you stuff like that.

So I have been having 15 millimeters of fun with her quirky, distorting, lightweight lens. I know there are moments when this lens is the exact lens you want. And I know there are moments when this is exactly the lens you do NOT want. Since I have only played with it for three days, I haven't learned that distinction. I was using it for anything and everything. And having a blast.

I learned that my fairly frequent shooting style of sitting on the ground, eye level with my short subjects, often resulted in getting my outstretched legs in the frame. Fortunately, my "camera shy" baby happily held her pose long enough for me to get it right. Sans ankles, calves and feet.

I learned that lovely landscape scenes, complete with tender kisses between my best two girls, are far easier to capture.

And I learned that the self portrait is a breeze with this bad boy. The key is positioning myself towards the center of the lens where the distortion is slightest. If the baby is a bit skewed, it is perfectly acceptable. She doesn't know about self esteem yet. And she has oodles of cuteness to carry her through stretched-out-face syndrome.

All in all, I am not sure I find this lens a necessity or next in line on my "oh, how nice it would be to have..." list. But boy it is fun. And fun leads to creativity and creativity leads to new, unique shots, and...maybe I do need this lens...

My Birthday Winners! :: Lexington, Virginia Family Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 10:52:00 +0000

The little things tell me if a session is going to be good. Last night, as we started away from our cars to begin shooting, the father grabbed his cell phone out of his back pocket and tossed it into the car. It probably didn't even resonate with him, but I loved it. I also loved the family's cheerfulness and energy and simple glee at being out and about...even after an hour drive from Charlottesville to meet me. I loved the son's curiosity about my camera, saying it was very odd looking. And I definitely loved the sweet baby girl's half galloping, half jumping gait as she bounded from one happy scene to the next.

I can only hope this beautiful, charming family can see all that love smiling back at them!

I Heart Faces, Week of August 22 :: Pets

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 00:01:00 +0000

I know my choice for this week's I Heart Faces challenge is slightly obtuse. My "pet" has no head. And it really isn't a pet. As lovely as the flamingo is, I have no desire to raise and tend one. I have children that satisfy any caregiver urges I might have! But I love the beauty of the feathers, the delicate color and soft wispiness.

I can't wait to see how many varieties of animals will be featured this week! Click the button below and share your picture with the menagerie.

Enduring Love :: Lexington, VA Family Photographer

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Rivera) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 17:43:00 +0000

The military is sudden. Capricious. Life can be very normal: off to work each morning, home with family each evening. There is a slightly different dress code. And you get to wear your accolades as little colored ribbons on your chest. But otherwise, fairly similar to most other folks.

Until you get a call saying you have to go. Now.

And it is those calls that make pictures so valuable. Pictures that let the kids say good night to Papa every single night. Pictures that fill the emptiness across the ocean when time zones and distance get in the way of the yearned for hugs and kisses. Pictures that assure you about what is important, what will be again and what this whole big thing is all about.

These are not just pictures. These are lifelines of love. Elastic, stretchy lifelines that have to endure some of what often feels unendurable. So much more than pictures.