pansies, a tale of metamorphosis (hill)

i keep telling myself to STOP photographing flowers! stop it! it seems their colorful faces are all i see these days. i head out walking miss daisey around the neighborhood, camera in tow, and i say “no flowers today.” i try, i do. i try to find fences or architecture or sky or signposts or chairs or something, anything other than flowers. but their colors and delicateness keep luring me back!

funny, i used to be a damn competitive, swashbuckling photojournalist. and i used to think that photographers who photographed flowers were pansies! i used to photograph politicians and world cup soccer and wildfires and gang members and city council meetings and crime scenes and the grand prix and dead bodies and once in a rare while a sunset. DEFINITELY NOT FLOWERS. i was 25, and even 35, and i loved it all! some scenes were horrible, blood and brains splattered on the sidewalk — now it churns my stomach to even write those words — but it was so exciting and different every day.

these days, you won’t catch me anywhere near the news. i’m allergic. don’t watch it, don’t read it, don’t want any part of it. i hear about the big things in conversations or from oprah! oil spill? earthquake? stockmarket? today i’m happy to say that i am a peaceful ostrich.

so now i photograph flowers, which brings me tranquility and wonder at the amazing, mystical world of mother nature. and it’s exciting and different every day.

oh, and i did photograph some faces of friends recently, just to change it up a bit.

do you have any suggestions of gentle, beautiful photographic subjects that i could add to my repertoire? would love to hear your ideas …

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About hillarah

my dad gave me my first camera in high school, a sturdy black minolta. i found my gift, my voice, my way to be with the world. after journalism school, i swashbuckled as a photojournalist for over a decade. moved home to norcal to be near family and started a boutique stock photography agency, see jane run. life had other plans. my camera lived mostly in the closet for nine years. last summer working on a film in france and spain, my camera became my friend again. and now, it's like rekindling a long-lost love. now with more wisdom, more freedom. pure joy.
This entry was posted in friends, nature, photography, walking miss daisey. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to pansies, a tale of metamorphosis (hill)

  1. Cynthia Brown says:

    Noooohhhhh! Don’t stop!! I love them. They inspire and speak to me. They are a langauge all of their own. Your language. And I’m thinking of bees, dragonflys, butterflys……. and ladybirds. More small magical creations of mother nature.

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