Kat Eye Studio

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For the Love of It

It is easy to always be looking to the future. Wanting, wishing, working toward a goal. To have plans and to be moving toward them. But once in a while, it’s good to look around you and notice where you are. To appreciate where life is and not were it will be… could be… should be… somewhere down the road.

I’m having one of those moments today. Looking around me and saying, “Hey, I’m in a pretty good place!” This feeling was brought on by a conversation I had Friday morning with a fellow engineer/artist friend, who is now retired from the corporate world and pursuing her art full time. As we both shared what we’ve been up to, she commented, “You can tell, you love what you do.”

Everything welled up inside of me. I do. I love what I do. It was a moment of conscious recognition. A moment of acknowledgement, of how lucky I am to do what I love.

I love photography. My passion for this art form has increased as I continue on my journey. Somewhere in the back of my head, I was worried that my love of photography would diminish after I moved home from Italy. That worry was so invalid! I love exploring the world around me, no matter where I am. I love finding scenes like this one, that connect with me and tell stories all their own through my camera lens.

I love writing. I love expressing an idea through words, communicating and connecting with others in this world. I love writing about my journey and the connections to my heart and soul inspired by the images I create. I love taking ideas from other places, thinking about them, exploring them and then transforming them into something new.

I love teaching. For me, teaching is the ultimate way to learn. I love to discover new things, experience new challenges, and gain new skills. I have to organize my thoughts. Transform my experiences into something useful to others. I learn by the process of helping others learn something new and from seeing the varied experiences that are born of that.

And I love so many other aspects of my life. I enjoy my corporate job as an engineering program manager. I get to work with teams of fabulous people and lead projects that matter to the company. I love being with my husband and son. We have fun exploring together and making a life together. I love seeing my son transform as he grows and faces new life experiences, like starting middle school this week.

She was right. I love what I do. All of the different pieces of it. They all fit together into a very full and very fulfilled life. It’s nice to pause and acknowledge that for a moment today.

Where are you? Do you love where you are, and what you do?

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Organic Growth (+ The Winners)

I’ve been thinking a lot about “organic growth” and no, I’m not talking about growing food here. I mention it a couple of times in an interview I recently recorded to promote my on-location A Sense of Place workshops coming up in England in September and October. In the interview (below), I talk about how I learned photography organically. By that I mean naturally and slowly, growing and evolving over the last twelve years. It wasn’t like I set out one day and decided, “I am going to become a photographer!” and take a course of study at a university. I started by creating a few good photographs. Wondering how I could create them more consistently. Buying a new camera. Taking a class. Practicing a lot. Reading a book or two. Taking another class. Taking more photographs. Writing about my photographs. Falling in love with photography. All this over a period of years.

There were some times of dramatic growth, like when I took an online course called Photography 101 in 2007. It covered the basics I had already learned — aperture, shutter speed, etc. — but for some reason this time it really clicked at a deeper level. Even then, it wasn’t a light switch change. It was an evolution over the 8 week course and beyond. Now I can look back on that as a significant “moment” but it really occurred over months.

I think this is an important thing to remember. Growth does not happen overnight. At least natural, sustainable growth doesn’t. Most of the time, it’s a day-by-day journey of growing by millimeters. It’s the sustained growth over long periods of time that gets us to a new place. Like this fantastic rusty mailbox scene found in Astoria… It didn’t appear overnight. It took years for the mailbox to rust, for the ivy to grow. It took years of someone letting this little spot alone to grow.

That’s what organic growth is. Slow, sustainable growth. This applies to photography or business or even personal growth in life. Sometimes, we look at someone we admire, and we want to be where they are now. We want to be that fantastic photographer. We want to be that successful business owner. We want to have that kind of confidence in ourselves. But we can’t get there by leapfrogging all of the work it takes to get to that place. Sure, we can make it easier on ourselves. We can learn from others how they got there. There is so much wonderful information available. We have books and classes and articles and videos all at our fingertips here on the web. But it still takes our own action. It takes practice, and moving ahead, that little step at a time, to get where we want to go.

I think organic growth is the best kind of growth. At least, I’ve discovered that it is for me. It’s the kind of growth that lets me adapt to my environment. It’s the kind of growth that lets me try something out and change course if I need to. It’s the kind of growth that doesn’t commit me to too much, getting into overwhelm. It’s the kind of growth that integrates what I’m learning into a stable foundation, so that each time I take a step up or out of my normal zone the world doesn’t collapse beneath me.

I tell you all this today so that you can be encouraged. That goal you have? The place you want to go? You can absolutely get there. Just don’t try to do it overnight. Give yourself time to grow.

PS – That lovely voice with the English accent you hear in all of my interviews is my dear friend and PR consultant in England, Fiona Pattison. You probably can’t tell because she edited it so beautifully, but we were laughing like crazy as we recorded this interview, over very silly mistakes. Fiona has definitely been an important part of the organic growth of Kat Eye Studio!

And the giveaway winners are…

Out of 107 entries…
#28 Marji of Sun Breaks in the Forecast
#89 Nadine

I’m so excited to liberate these postcards to the lucky winners! Thanks to all of you who entered. I was surprised about all of the nice things you said to me as you entered, that was an unexpected bonus. Thank you for your lovely comments and your ongoing support! More giveaways are definitely to come. Giving things away is so much fun! 🙂

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The Dance of Marriage

Today marks nineteen years of marriage for my husband and I. Nineteen years! When I write it out it amazes me. I’ve spent almost half my life with this man. We’ve been through so much together… birth, death, pregnancy, surgeries, depression, degrees, religions, new jobs and businesses, cars, apartments, houses, moves across country and world, travel, hobbies, parenting… I could go on and on. Nineteen years worth of on and on. We’ve been companion, witness, friend and counselor to each other.

It hasn’t always been easy. I sometimes wonder how we’ve made it this far when I look back at the big struggles we’ve had along the way. Marriage is not an easy Saturday afternoon walk in the park. It’s not what the romance novels and fairy tells would lead you to believe. They end at the “happily ever after” part, but “happily ever after” is really where the work begins. Marriage takes compromise and commitment and choice. It takes patience and forgiveness and humility. Recently I heard marriage described as a “crucible for personal growth” and recognized this for truth. It is. You tie your life to a completely separate person and then you progress through the years as you both change and grow. How can you expect to NOT struggle once in a while? Could you ever expect to see completely see eye-to-eye with someone else over a period of nineteen years? I don’t think so.

This weekend I saw a wonderful performance troupe and captured the dancers on the rings and ropes. This man and woman shared an intricate and beautiful performance of a love story. They made it look graceful, but I’m sure it wasn’t easy. It was the practice and commitment they both shared that made the act seem effortless. How many hours and hours did they spend in rehearsal, for this one performance?

Marriage is like that. It’s a dance we must practice and practice with our partner. We make mistakes. We fall. We fight. We pick up where we left off and try again. And sometimes we discover we can glide effortlessly through a performance. We are in synch and beautiful to watch. There it is, the “happily ever after” part. Where things go smoothly and life is filled with joy. When we reach that, guess what? We’re not done. It’s time to learn the next dance, because we are always changing and growing.

Nineteen years worth of changing and growing. We were so young when we got married, it feels like we’ve grown up together. We’ve grown up separately, too. We are both such different people than we were on this day nineteen years ago. Life has changed us. Life together has changed us. We are who we are today, in part because of each other.

I hope we’ll be graced with nineteen more years of the real-life version of “happily ever after.” We’re just starting to get it figured out, for this dance anyway.

Happy Anniversary, Patrick.

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Taking Risks

Risk has been much on my mind lately. You can take risk across all areas of your life: Professionally, personally, artistically. Or you can avoid risk, wrap ourselves up in a cocoon of perceived safety, trying to avoid any downside. But with real risk, there is always a downside, to go along with the upside of real reward. With real risk, something of real value must be put on the line. That could be something tangible, such as money, or intangibles like time, reputation, or even ego.

There have been some big issues at my corporate job, as I alluded to last month, and the situation has only grown bigger as some deadlines loom. This has gotten me to thinking about risk… We are dealing with these big issues because we took big risks. We took big risks, seeking big rewards. When you take big risks, they don’t always work out positively. Were there mistakes made along the way? Sure. Hindsight is always 20-20. Is it a failure that things aren’t working out as planned? I don’t think so. We are still much further along the path to achieving our goals than we would have been. The issues are more about responding to new information as it comes in, rather than completely starting over. The only real failure is if you fail to learn from the situation.

I think of risk as flipping a coin. There are two sides to that coin – heads or tails. There is no inherent “good” or “bad” in a getting a head or a tail, it’s just the outcome of the toss. If we took uninformed risks, there would be an equal likelihood of either result with the toss of our coin. You can move the odds in your favor though, by being smart about taking risk. Smart risk taking involves getting as much information as you can, making a decision and committing to a path. It involves keeping your eye on the situation as you move forward and making adjustments as necessary. Smart risk taking is like working to change the results of the coin toss to be heads more often. But it’s still a coin toss, and it still could come up tails. That’s always a possibility with real risk. If there were no possibility of the coin coming up tails, you aren’t risking anything.

And if you aren’t risking anything, you are not growing. Growth, be it in business or in life, requires risk. It requires stepping out of the comfort zone, moving into an unknown space. Even though I talk about taking “smart risks” and getting the information to move forward, you will never, ever have all of the information you want or you need. If you are taking real risks, you will never have a perfect record in the outcome. It’s called the “unknown” for a reason. You have to take the information you have, along with your desire to reach out for that big reward, apply judgment and intuition, and then go.

We often shy away from risk, because we are scared of failure. We don’t want the discomfort or pain of a “bad” result. So we stay stuck. We don’t move forward, we don’t expand, we don’t grow. We don’t reap any new rewards. We might tell ourselves we are waiting until that next piece of information comes in, for that next door to open up, for the perfect moment to step out… but the reality is there will never be a perfect moment, a perfect opportunity, a perfect decision. While we hesitate and wait, we shrink. We may try to avoid risk at all cost to avoid pain, but life has other plans for us. Life hands us things to which we must respond. Things like health issues, loss of a job or loss of loved ones. We are much better equipped to respond to the pain and discomfort of these unforeseen events if we’ve been pushing ourselves out there, taking risks and learning to deal with the downside.

I’m living the results of real risk right now… At my corporate job with the resolution of these issues, sure, but that’s only one tiny example in the course of my life. There are so many places along my personal journey and career I’ve taken risks and they’ve paid off: Taking the assignment in Italy, sharing my art and my heart here online, starting Kat Eye Studio. Those are just a recent few. If I look back at my life journey, I can see every big, important, positive change in my life has come when I’ve taken a risk. A real risk, where something of value is on the line, and I’ve stepped out into the unknown.

Are you avoiding risk somewhere in your life? Are you stuck, trying to create a cocoon that will protect you from discomfort? I encourage you to take a look at those places carefully, take a deep breath, and flip the coin. Heads or tails, you learn and grow. And with growth, you always win.

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Living Real Life

July 1st, our one year anniversary of moving home to Oregon from Italy, came and went with a whisper. We marked the date as a family, and talked about what we were doing a year ago, but we were busy heading off on vacation and didn’t give it too much fanfare. We have a life to live in the here and now, and Italy seems like ancient history. A year and a lifetime away.

The passing of this anniversary got me to thinking: What have I learned in this first year back? It’s been a hard year, and an easy year, depending on my point of view. There are definitely some lessons and revelations that have come with repatriation. In so many ways, our time in Italy was not “Real Life.” It had a definite start and end, and when you know you have limited time you behave differently than you would otherwise. “Real Life” continues on and on, with it’s ups and downs and twists and turns. You can put just about anything off for two years. And we did… we lived a life of travel and excitement, in the moment. We didn’t worry about saving for retirement. We didn’t worry about negotiating obligations to family and friends. We didn’t worry about long term career choices. We had two years, and made the most of it.

Returning to “Real Life,” without an end date, changes things. Some things cannot be sustained or put off indefinitely. I’d love to travel like we did for two years but the reality is we don’t have the vacation time or the funds to visit someplace new every other weekend. Or, let’s face it, the energy. But I miss the travel. Oh, how I miss visiting interesting places all the time. Seeing something new around every corner. That fueled me creatively in a way that I’m not sure I’ll see again. And that’s ok… that’s what made the time so special.

Beyond the financial though, there are personal things that I put off too. The old saying, “wherever you go, there you are,” is very, very true. You can fool yourself for a while in a new situation, thinking things are different, but sooner or later you realize that the issues you face come from within and they will be there no matter where you live. So while I focused on this wonderful personal growth that came from my creative journey while in Italy, that was only part of the story. My journey must continue to address the issues I tabled or ignored for those two years. The thing about personal growth is that you don’t always get to pick and choose the direction you grow, like I did during those two years. Sometimes “Real Life” chooses for you.

It turns out that’s fine though, because I’ve also learned another important thing about growth. It stays with you. What I learned and gained from the connection to heart and soul has not left me in the return home, because wherever you go, there you are. It works both ways, positive and negative. When change is real and true and internal, it’s with me always. My fears about going back to being the person I was two years ago were unfounded, because the place does not make the person. Our experiences in a place and time shape us and leave us indelibly changed.

I see that in my art too. My photography was changed by my time in Italy, and it has changed as I return home. There are things that I have carried through: my love of real life still life, texture and history. Among my subjects you’ll still see potted flowers, peeling paint and interesting door locks. There are changes though, because my environment has changed. The materials and scenes that make up my life are different now, and since my photography is a reflection of the world around me, it’s had to change. I still love scooters, but the sightings are fewer and far between. I’ve found new subjects that intrigue me, things like mail boxes and brick buildings. I’ve created new images that I love just as much as some of my old ones. And there is so much more that I’ve been able to do since returning home. Without the cultural and language barriers, I’m learning to be an artist in the real world as well as the online world. I’m exploring new realms of photography, through print and presentation in exhibitions. I’m moving in new directions, influenced by all of the places and experiences that have come before.

Porch Flowers, Astoria, Oregon

The lessons of the last year have not been easy. At times I’ve been filled with such longing and sadness it’s overwhelming. And then, at times, I’m grateful to be where I am and leave that time behind me. I’ve had to learn balance in a new way with starting a creative business and finding the time for Kat Eye Studio, my corporate job, my family, friends and, oh yeah, I need to still practice and create my own art too. I’ve had to let go of unreasonable expectations and take each day, each hour, each moment… one at a time.

It might be that the biggest and most important lesson of the past year is that I am still finding my way. I will always be finding my way, no matter where I am. And I have to find my own way: in art, business, life. No one else’s path is going to work for me. I can learn from other’s experiences, from my past experiences, but I am the one who must choose the direction I move ahead in the future. The journey that came before influences where I go next, but my past doesn’t decide my future. I decide my future, a moment at a time. I am the one living this “Real Life” in real time.

There is no where else I would rather be, than where I am right now.

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The Path of Confidence

I’ve been thinking about confidence lately. What is it? How do I get it, and keep it? I can imagine confidence as a path along a ledge. If you move to much to one side, you fall of the ledge into insecurity. If you move too much to the other, you fall off into arrogance. How do you stay the middle road of confidence? That’s what I’m wondering.

For some reason, I also think of confidence as a physical stance. Feet apart, body strong, looking straight ahead, making eye contact with the future. The stance is grounded, solid. It takes more than a wisp of wind to break a confident stance. Compare this to insecurity, which I imagine as curled into a ball, trying to present the minimum amount of surface to the world. Hiding the face, protecting as much as possible. And then arrogance, which is similar to confidence in stance but not as strong. Looking up, maybe, or eyes closed, and not able to see what is coming down the path. The stance of either insecurity or arrogance is not as stable. Things you can’t see can hit you and knock you over.

So really, mixing all of my metaphors together, what I want is a strong stance on a wide path. How to get that?

It seems that I waffle back and forth. From insecurity I force myself to stand up and be confident to move forward and try new things. With some success, my confidence grows to the point I feel like I’m doing well, only to be occasionally knocked back by something I didn’t see coming in my arrogance or ignorance. Is there a way to hold the middle path?

All I’ve figured out so far is that I keep moving forward, pretending confidence when I don’t have it. Otherwise I’d be balled up by insecurity, stuck in one place. Hoping that my confidence, when marvelously gained for those brief moments, does not turn to arrogance. It seems to me a fine balance to hold.

I’m hoping someday, the path of confidence is wider than it feels right now. I mean, look at all of the things I’m confident in now, I don’t even think about, that I used to worry about or that used to seem enormous. But maybe that’s the key, the path is always wider looking back than looking forward. It’s the act of moving forward, that widens the path.

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