Saturday, November 5, 2011

shoot. write. fly.

I recently participated in an online photography and writing class called The Photo Essay Project hosted by 'creative maven' Bindu Wiles.  The idea was to expand your photography and writing chops by completing weekly assignments using new creative techniques and technology.  The goal was simple, broaden you artistic perspective by sharing your day to day lives and using your iPhone.  That's right, just your iPhone.  Every picture taken and every word written was done on your phone.  And then we created an online community and shared our work, all on the phone, all in near-realtime, all with 2 thumbs essentially.  It's so freeing to leave behind the big camera and not have to wrestle with the exhausting editing software.  (Stupid Photoshop!)  To me it's the difference between running and flying.  I thought I'd give flying a try.

Below are some of my favorites from the 5 week course.  The subject matter is eclectic but in an interesting way they relate.  I didn't see it until I created this post but it's there.  A delicate thread of association and familiarity.


into the sun.

for sun kissed corn.

I used to wonder if I fit in. Now I’m happy that I don’t. Now I just find the stillness in my uniqueness and I sit in it. I wallow. I loll. I muck around. I’m still. 

head in the clouds.

Today I noticed the cutting board was in the refrigerator. When did I put it there? Why did I put it there? And most strangely, why did I leave it there? 


the straight and narrow.

I've never been a fan of death. I hate goodbyes. I hate them when they're short or long. I especially hate them when they're permanent. But the traditions of funerals and cemeteries radically force you into a place of reflection. The good, the bad and the ugly. Then you must make peace with the ashes before you and with yourself. It's best if the autumn sunshine is in your face and resting on your bent shoulders. It can resurrect you peacefully.


Memories of you bead up on me. I have no shelter from your weather. Time heals nothing. And time can not protect against inclement clouds of hope.

She sat quietly in a chair. The sun sliced through the aluminum blinds and across her memories. Dust motes orbited as she wished for the time when the lost space in her heart would be reclaimed. She imagined the chunk of her heart he took would be found. Then she could piece together her future. 

you’re like helium to my deflated heart.

A prayer.
May each of your days begin and end with a colorful, beautifully lit path. Each step should be vibrant. Each ending an indelible footprint on your ruby heart. Always journey in technicolor. Choose life’s saturation. Let it mature you into a brilliant flaming hue. And then, rest.

foggy commute.

starting my life over each morning. 


  1. Elisa, you're making me lust for an iPhone....

    I was driving on the highway about a week ago and the sunset was lighting up all the clouds in such a spectacular way, and all I could say was, "Oh....OHHH, LOOK!....Oh, beautiful!" And the light was just perfect for about three minutes, and there was no place for me to safely pull over and take a photo.

    "But the traditions of funerals and cemeteries radically force you into a place of reflection. The good, the bad and the ugly. Then you must make peace with the ashes before you and with yourself." Beautifully said. Amen.

  2. Thanks, Pat. I've been in that position many times, sometimes you just have to take a "mental picture". :)

  3. S, yes it is. But maybe we could share it?

  4. I love when you write. You paint with words on a canvas as beautifully as your iPhone. I love the way you mingle art and words.

  5. Kim, thanks so much! You're so kind. As always, thanks for your visit.

  6. The 15th photo -- the Airport Marriott Hotel? I saw that carpet pattern there last night when I was at a meeting and immediately thought of you and that photograph.

    1. Pat, you got it! I was there for a work conference... :) Good eye!

  7. I'll second freshie up there--it is a shame you don't write more. :(
    I miss that.

    1. One day I will write more. I miss it. Thanks for your encouragement!