Kat Eye Studio

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What You Don’t See

Ahhhh, summer.
Sitting in the backyard, watching evening come on.
A peaceful moment.

Is that what you see in this?

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I see that, but it’s not quite the whole picture. What you don’t see is that the fence is about to fall down, and it’s been that way for years. You don’t see the power lines and drive-through coffee place behind our house, along with the sound of the traffic on a busy street. You don’t see me, laying on the couch, binge-watching Arrested Development because I was so worn out from my seven mile hike that morning. Yes, I’m proud of the “seven mile” part of that, but the rest could all be cut.

So that’s what I did. I saw this potential photo out the back door and went out and framed it the way I wanted to see it.

I do that a lot. I focus in on what I do want to see, the good stuff, and ignore the rest. It helps me in creating photographs, because I’m always evaluating what should be in and out of the frame. The more I can get rid of distractions or unneeded elements, the better the photograph. It helps me in life too, because I focus on the many things I really want to do and the few things that need to be done regardless, and release the stuff that doesn’t really matter. The fence is falling down? OK. It hasn’t fallen down yet. It’s not a danger to people or property. So I’m not going to worry about it. When it does fall down, we’ll take care of it. It’s out of my mind otherwise.

Some might call this denial, or turning a blind eye to reality.

I call it a philosophy.

You see, I believe you can focus on the good stuff, and be happy, or you can dwell on the bad stuff, and be forever depressed. It’s all in where you choose to look, and what you choose to see. We always have choices. Sometimes I can’t help but see the bad stuff, and then I still have a couple of choices to make: Does it need to be dealt with, and does it need to be dealt with NOW? Sometimes, the answer is, Yeah, I need to deal with this now. But many times, the answer is: It’s not so important right now. Or even, it’s not so important ever.

This doesn’t mean I don’t see or deal with real, hard, painful, messy things, ever. I do… when it’s important. But it doesn’t have to be all the time. It doesn’t have to be “just because” it’s there. It doesn’t have to be a way of life, always down in the muck. Thinking, If I just do this one last, hard thing, I will be happy. That doesn’t work.

You have to be happy first, regardless of all of the muck. And to be happy, for me, often means ignoring the muck. I watched this great TED talk this week, which helped me realize my approach to life is not just denial but a healthy outlook. Take a quick watch – it’s 12 enjoyable, laugh-filled minutes:

Aha, I thought. I’ve shifted the way I frame the world over the last few years, allowing myself to focus on the positive, and it explains a few things. It explains why I’ve been happy at my job, while other people around me are swirling in the worry and stress of what might happen. It explains why I was so much happier when I stopped watching the news a few years ago. It even may explain why my art comes out the way it does – usually positive and showing the beautiful in the world around me – even when there is a fence falling down, or power lines, or a traffic-filled street. I just cut out the stuff I don’t want to see.

You might think I’m lucky, that this is just naturally the way I’m wired. I think that is partly true, but it’s also true that I’m wired for achievement. For accomplishment. For seeing the work that needs to be done and making sure I do the work first, check it off my list, and then focus elsewhere. It’s taken a conscious effort on my part to shift toward focusing on the good stuff first, and ignoring the muck.

I want to see the good stuff, so that’s what I choose to look for. That’s what I frame with my camera, that’s what I write on the blog, that’s what I share with you.

And what you don’t see? That stuff… it doesn’t even matter.

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Untying a Knot: eCourses On Demand

Last week, when I wrote about unraveling my identity sweater and running into a knot, I was working through some personal attachments to the way I do things. (If you didn’t read the original post this won’t make sense, so quickly visit the original post here.)

When I started Kat Eye Studio two years ago this week, I had just moved back from Italy and had plans. Big plans. I already had two eCourses written and plans for more. I wanted to fill my schedule with eCourses, connecting more people to the heart and soul of photography, running non-stop. I wanted to interact daily with participants online, creating a supportive learning environment.

And I did! I did everything I wanted to do when I started Kat Eye Studio. I knitted a new piece of my identity sweater and was enjoying the fit.

But then, this year, I ran into a problem. I had created enough eCourses that my schedule was full. I could teach them all year long with very little time, maybe a week or two, off in-between. Wow. Suddenly what was fun and invigorating got a little overwhelming. Teaching these courses takes both energy and time, and that doesn’t leave much energy and time to create. Not to mention the energy and time to take care of myself, getting out to exercise and fuel myself visually, which I had been pretty much ignoring for much of the last two years.

So I ran into a knot in my identity… There was the identity I had created for myself, around being very present and active in ongoing instructor-led courses, and the identity that I wanted to create, continuing as an instructor but also as someone who continually develops artistically and takes care of herself physically too. To loosen the knot, I had to let go of one thread and work through the other threads to unravel what was important to me.

So I’ve come out on the other side of this knot with a new plan: eCourses On Demand. I want to continue to share these ideas and materials I’ve put together. I believe in what these courses have to offer, and deep down in my core I know they are valuable and should be put into the world. I just can’t always do it side-by-side with my students, real-time. I need time to create, time to hike, time to write, and time to develop new ideas.

In the future, I plan to teach two or three eCourses per year as instructor-led. My eCourses will be available On Demand the rest of the time, so that you can take them on your schedule, without having to wait a long time to get the material. They will be missing one dimension, the group interaction, but you can get that in other ways. Ask a friend to join you and take the course at the same time, perhaps. And I’ll always be available by email for questions as needed.

It’s amazing how the knot I had been struggling with came undone once I had committed myself to this new path. It was as if the threads just came apart. I can see it was knot of my own making, through my attachments to how I should do things or had done things in the past.

It was a reminder that much of what we struggle with is internal. Our own concepts of identity can hold us back or move us forward. How is yours working for you?

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No matter where I go, I capture two-wheeled transportation. Bicycles, scooters and sometimes even motorcycles catch my eye. I can’t begin to explain my excitement as I came across this scene on a forest walk in Pulau Ubin, an island of Singapore. This scene allowed me to express my own interest, with a subject that has become a common thread running throughout my photographs no matter where I am in the world, but also expresses the uniqueness of the place itself. I’ve never seen a sidecar full of coconuts before. Have you?

A-Sense-of-Place-Button-general-125x125A Sense of Place is one of the eCourses I’m excited to offer On Demand. This eight week eCourse helps you with everything from preparation for exploring places to effectively photographing what you see. It goes deeper into the concepts of place, looking at themes across your photography and through time. If you really want to dive into exploring places, whether near or far from home, this course will help you. Find more information and registration here.

Fuel Your Creativity Button 125x125Fuel Your Creativity is a quick, one-week boost that will get you going and creating! This eCourse is for anyone, regardless of medium or artistic background. We use creativity every day, all the time in our lives. To get the most out of creativity, we need fuel and energy. Now On Demand, these daily prompts are available to give you the boost you need to break out of a rut and start something new. Find more information and registration here.

More eCourses On Demand to come this fall!

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Photo-Heart Connection: June

A continuum. That’s what time is, color is, life is – a continuum from one end to the other. If you can even tell the end, that is. It’s often hard to tell where the start and end of something really is. Defining “the start” can be the source of great debates. Does life start at conception or birth? Do you start counting from zero or one?

All I can do is choose is the best place to begin the story I am trying to tell.

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When did I become the artist I am today? Do I start the story in childhood, with my fingerpaints? With my love of painting watercolors and Georgia O’Keefe in high school? Or do I start with the desire to capture moments on film, or the shift to an iPhone and abstraction? Where do I start?

Realizing all of life is a continuum – moving from one thing to the next to the next, sometimes in big steps and other times in tiny shuffles – means I’m not required to “start” anywhere. I can pick the story up anywhere I want. I can go backwards and forwards and skip around if I choose to. Someday at “the end” (however the end is defined), someone can put the continuum in order and figure it all out. Until then, I don’t have to worry about it.

So let’s pick up the story where I am right now… It is one of color, of shape, of mixed up, as-yet-undefined media. It is a story of someone who is experimenting and discovering what works and what doesn’t, both in life and in art. It is the story of me, in pictures and words.

The story changes daily… even I don’t know what happens next. Stay tuned for the next episode. I will be.

Wow… I didn’t expect that to come out when I sat down to write about the image I found as this month’s Photo-Heart Connection. 🙂 I guess it comes out of the continuum of color in this piece – where does the yellow end and the green begin? Which parallel the recent thoughts about my art – where does the photograph end and the painting (or whatever you call this art form) begin? Where does representation end and abstraction begin? Thinking about it can make my head hurt. But the idea that I don’t have to pick a start or an end to anything is liberating to me. No need to worry about being “one” or “the other.” It’s all a continuum and I can move back and forth as I please. That’s really nice. I’m going to keep that idea with me.

How about you? What is your Photo-Heart Connection this month? Review your June images and see what comes up as the strongest connection for you, write about it, then share with us here. The link up is open July 1 through 7.


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Unraveling an Identity

I’ve started thinking about identity. What is it? How does it work? Is my identity me?

I’ve come to a conclusion as I’ve pondered the idea of “identity”… My identity is not me. My identity is something external to me. It’s everything I’ve picked up to define myself along the way. The views through others eyes and the shortcuts I use to describe myself. Where I spend my time and energy. What I create. All that is wrapped up in my identity. But it is not me.

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I’ve come up with an analogy, explaining identity as a sweater, worn over the core of who we are. It is knit throughout our life by influential people in our lives and, eventually, by our selves. The sweater is started by our parents, who give it their best. As we get older teachers take on the task, and our friends join in too. There are threads of culture woven through, along with our interests, professions and important relationships. Our strengths and our weaknesses get in there, maybe out of proportion in places.

At some point in our lives, we might realize that we are wearing a sweater that no longer fits. For whatever reason, the identity that has grown up with us has become too big or too small, too long or too short. So we have to unravel, and reknit it for ourselves. We realize that we can adjust and shape it to better fit. Maybe we can even remove it altogether, but I think that must be much harder to do.

There are times in our unraveling, when it goes beautifully. Everything just comes apart easily and you can start to patch things together in a new way. I think this happened for me in Italy, as I rediscovered art and my creative side. After a couple of years of work I emerged with a new patch of my identity sweater, beautiful and colorful. These last couple of years I’ve worked to carefully knit the new and old patches together, finding a fit that works.

But there are other times in our reshaping, when you have multiple strands going at the same time – some unraveling, some knitting back up – and you get a knot. A snarly knot that doesn’t want to budge. All you can do is take some time to pick at it, work it loose. Figure out which strand goes where and how to integrate it.

I think that’s where I am right now, I’m working at a knot. Earlier this year I had multiple strands flying and all was going well. Then almost without me noticing, things started to get snarled up. The knot is a little too tight, and the only thing I can do is be careful and patient, wiggling it loose. Everything is at a standstill, until this knot is undone.

Somewhere on the other side of this knot is something new, I can feel it. A new patch to overlay and integrate with the rest of my identity sweater. But I have to work at this knot first. I’ll let you know when I’m done…

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unWasted Effort

Whew. Made it through a crazy week at work. It was one of those weeks that felt like Friday on Wednesday. By Friday it felt like three weeks had passed, so much had happened. It’s a tiring feeling but also a good feeling. We exited the week in a radically different place than we started. We learned a lot and made progress on the problem we were working on, so it wasn’t wasted effort.

If you’re like me, wasted effort is something I like to avoid. There is nothing worse than doing a lot of work to find it’s gone no where.

And yet…

I’ve had to revise that thought in my creative world. One of the things I love about mobile photography is that I can experiment. I throw out the rules and have no goals. Or if I have a goal, I’m willing to let the goal fall by the wayside if it’s not working. Often, I come up with nothing good. Downright horrific stuff. But sometimes things comes together, and it’s magical.

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This flower is the result of a lot of experimentation. Trying to get an iPhone shot from below led to tons of thrown away files. But I got one. Even that one was a bit of a disaster, with my head partially in the frame. But it was enough to play with the processing. The end is not anywhere close to what I had in mind when I started. I saw some possibilities along the way and decided to let them flow. I love it.

So it makes me come back to this idea of wasted effort, and whether it really is something to avoid as fastidiously as I’ve always seemed to. If you learn something out of it, is any effort really wasted? Maybe in the end result, effort feels wasted when I’ve tried five different things until I finally got to something that worked. Why didn’t I start with this the first time, I might berate myself. But could I have gotten to the end result without the dead ends? Often, I think the answer is no.

The “wasted effort” is often really just learning. I have to go through it. It’s fodder for future creativity. It becomes the experience I can lean on in the future to get to a specific result, quicker.

I still think I want to be smart about where I’m putting my energy. Doing the same thing wrong the same way over and over again is probably not going to help me or anyone get very far. But if I’m not “wasting” some effort… running into some dead ends here and there… I wonder if I’m not playing it too safe. If everything is predictable, right the first time and wrapped up in a pretty bow, I’m probably not growing quite enough. That applies to my art and my engineering day job… pretty much everything in life.

As much as it pains me to say it, as much as it exhausts me to think about it after a week like this where I just want to curl up and read a good book, I know I want to be working right on that edge. I want to be pushing myself… because that’s when true creative breakthroughs and growth happen.

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Alone on the Hill

The wonderful thing about mobile photography is that it is, well, mobile. It’s with me anywhere I go. With a little downtime, I can create. Anywhere, anytime.

Exploring my sister’s back yard, a spot of bright color caught my eye. In the berm leading up the mountainside away from her yard, there was one lone poppy blooming. I climbed the steep hill and balanced precariously, trying to capture the flower while the breeze shifted it this way and that. After finally capturing a good image — nicely framed, in focus, without my shadow in it — I sat down in the Colorado sunshine and proceeded to mess it up, transforming it into something new. Something that expresses more than the original photograph. Something that gets to the essence of the poppy, instead of the poppy itself.

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Later I was passing the image around the table, sharing with my family. It’s an interesting thing to share in person rather than on the internet. On the internet, people can quietly ignore something they don’t like. You only really hear from those who DO like it. So seeing someone view my work in person as it was passed around the table, I could tell if they liked it or not. I got the unfiltered responses.

I discovered that not everyone likes the new direction my work is taking. I discovered they were surprised by the abstract nature of the art I enjoy creating. I discovered that these changes, which seem obvious and natural to me, are not obvious or even explicable to those who are dearest to me.

It does make sense… They haven’t been around me on a regular basis for a long time. They didn’t see me in the museums of Europe, discovering my attraction to colorful abstract art. They didn’t see me falling in love with Vasily Kandinsky, Mark Rothko or Paul Delaunay. They haven’t seen my playing around with paints and trying to capture the emotion of pure color and movement on a canvas. All they saw was the photographs. And now all they see is this dramatic transition of the art I share, because I’ve finally found the medium that combines my love of photography and abstraction in one place.

Yeah, I can see how that would be surprising.

Another thing that I discovered, as I found out they don’t all like this new direction of my work, is that I don’t care. I love what I am creating now. I am confident and comfortable with it as my own personal expression. I am comfortable with the idea that others won’t like it. Some don’t like it because it’s perceived as easy: “All you do is push buttons in software, and that’s just wrong.” Some don’t like it because they prefer the more literal interpretation of a photograph, and don’t think it needs to be transformed in any way. They liked my old style better.

That’s ok, because I don’t create for anyone else, I create for me. Some people will connect with it, some people won’t. That’s just the way art works. I don’t have to be hemmed in by anyone else’s rules and opinions.

And one final discovery out of all of this… it doesn’t mean they love me or I love them any less. My work is an expression of me, but it is not me.

That’s just as important to realize, I think.

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