I lost my sister Maryan a couple of years ago when she died in her sleep at the age of 35. First I wrote like mad in a private blog about my grief. Then I picked up a camera because I realized it might up to me to chronicle my nieces growing up. And I found that not only did I love taking pictures, people actually liked them. I stopped writing and started shooting. Lots and lots and lots of shooting.
An astute photographer on a forum once made this observation about my work: “Here we have a lady, new to photography who photographs what’s so dear to her. There’s no pretense, arrogance, use of other folks ideas, just her eye in the viewfinder from her chosen position in her world of loved beings. She’s driven by a need to treasure what’s alive around her.”
I think that explains as well as anything why my writing slowed down as my use of the camera accelerated. I became less paralyzed by grief and more mobilized to savor life and document its mysteries. Now that I have this life behind the camera lens I think I may be seeing the world and why people love it for the first time in my life.
I owe this gift to my sister Maryan.
Mair, I miss you like crazy. Where I am now is all because of you, and it’s all for you. Wish you were here. Every single day.