Kat Eye Studio

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Layers upon Layers

 
Aaaahhhh, Italia.

Italy seems to be coming up for me a lot lately. Just little remembrances, here and there. It’s like a soft realization that my time in Italy has been absorbed into the layers of me, of my history. No longer the most important layer, or the most fragile, raw layer. A layer that’s been safely ensconced by “before” and “after.”

Italy Sorrento Bicycle Kat Sloma Photography

Sorrento, Italy

Maybe it’s because now — heading on 3 years later — I know there is a “Kat” after Italy. Life has continued to go on. There has been more creativity, more learning. More growth. I’ve reinvented myself again, as a new person, after Italy.

My time in Italy was about reinventing myself. Beyond the scope of my normal life it was this chance in a new place to dig deeper and find who I am at my core. I uncovered the creative, artistic part of me again. I found confidence in myself outside of my previous frames of reference.

But it was still with a frame of reference, and reliance, on Italy. I took my identity as an artist, as a photographer and writer, from the place. From the travels and adventures around Europe. So, coming back I had to reinvent myself once again, in a new context. The context of “after.”

For a while, Italy was still my frame of reference. That layer was on the surface, always to be referred to, compared to, examined against. And then, when it started to get covered up, the top layer was too fragile. I couldn’t dig down to Italy, because I would damage things on the surface. I need to let it go, and move forward.

But now… I can revisit it again. It’s like picking up a treasured object; savoring a special memory. A layer of who I am, like any other. Not one that defines me any longer, but one that enabled my definition. And a layer that, because I found I could transform, allows me to continue to transform. Because of Italy, and the return, I know I can learn and grow and forever change.

I am all layers. I am adding to myself all the time. No one layer dominates. No one layer defines. The beauty is in the strata… Layers upon layers.

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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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How do you spell relief?

Today I’m spelling it VW! After being a single-car family for the last nine months back in the US, for three years total if you include Italy, yesterday we bought a second vehicle, a used VW Passat. Today I’m feeling is a vast sense of relief.

It’s been harder than I expected to have one car in the US. It seemed so easy in Italy, but our lives were different there. It would be easier here if all I did was go to work and come home on a regular schedule. Or all my husband did was go to work and come home on a regular schedule. Or one of us was a completely stay at home parent. Or if no one in the family had any outside activities. Or if we did everything together. Or if all of our activities were accessible within walking distance. Or we lived in a big city with more frequent and extensive public transportation. Or we lived in a place where it was sunny all the time, where we could bike or scooter without getting wet. Or if we had all the time in the world to be flexible around transportation.

None of those things are true for us.

So lately it came down to either organizing and making tradeoffs based on transportation, or buying a second vehicle. Looking at everything, the answer was clear. It was time to get a car.

I worked so hard to make it work with one vehicle this long, I thought I would be disappointed. But I’m not disappointed in the slightest, only relieved. I’m surprised at how much relief I feel. I didn’t realize how much stress must have been building up inside me around the transportation situation. I’m happy we went this long, because I now know the tradeoffs I am and am not willing to make. I am confident that buying a second vehicle was the right decision for us, whereas nine months ago I was not convinced.

For those of you who live in the US and manage a family with one vehicle, I truly salute you! And you’ll find me happily waving to you with a smile on my face, from the ranks of the two-vehicle families again.

Cultural Reference Note: The question “How do you spell relief?” is from a 1970’s TV commercial for an antacid in the US. The answer was R-O-L-A-I-D-S. I wonder if equating this phrase with “relief” means I watched too much TV as a child…

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Magical Lights

I must admit, as we’ve gone through Exploring with a Camera: Holiday Lights, I’ve found myself desparately missing Italy and Europe. This has been the hardest period since we’ve moved home from Italy in July, and it’s caught me by surprise.

You see, holiday time is magical in Europe. The city centers come alive with light displays, like this one on Via Dante in Milan last year. Remember my lead-in photo in the Holiday Lights post? It was from the same street, a year earlier. I find myself wondering what the lights look like this year.

And the markets, oh, the holiday markets! Every town, small or large, has a holiday market with interesting goods and special foods to sell. They are always hustling, bustling places in the pedestrian zones. Regardless of the weather, the vendors and the shoppers can be found there.

Each city has their own unique lights, it’s a point of pride. Here’s ceiling of the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele in Milan, where last year the crest of Milan could be found. The city’s lights seem to be saying, “Here we are, we are Milan.” I wonder if they have a dedicated light designer working year round to create their special displays. I would not be surprised! The more we explored, the more interesting and unique lights we found.

I so miss the holiday lights. I miss the pedestrian zones and the piazzas, the places where the town is alive. I miss the store displays. I miss the holiday markets. I miss the magic.

Thank you to those of you who have shared your Holiday Lights in the link up. They’ve been a bright spot in my otherwise wistful holiday season. You can still link up today! And tomorrow, a new Exploring with a Camera begins. I’ll share a few creative ways to explore lights any time of year, beyond what you’ve seen here and in other places. Don’t miss it!


Today's Many Muses Musing prompt is MAGIC. Tomorrow's prompt is BELIEVE. Come on over and join in!

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Italy in my Pocket

A Walk on Time, Ravenna, Italy

A Walk on Time, Ravenna, Italy

I’ve been thinking a lot about Italy lately. I find little pieces of evidence of my time in Italy various places. In my wool coat, out for the winter, I have found a few pieces of Italian memorabilia. A couple of Milan Metro tickets, a British penny, some pistachio shells. I feel them there. I take them out and look at them, and then put them back. Yes, crazily enough, even the pistachio shells. I put them back.

They all have memories for me. The pistachio shells remind me of the winter night we all went into Milan and wandered around, Brandon hounding us for a snack until we stopped at a kiosk and bought the pistachios. Then, what to do with the shells… We would collect them up in pockets as we walked around and then drop them in a trash can. Apparently I forgot a few, lingering in my pocket. In my pocket they will stay.

The Metro tickets may have been from the same night, or some other time. We used the Metro all the time when we wanted to go into Milan. The tickets were stuck everywhere… they became bookmarks and notes. My son has piles of them saved up. I have two in my coat pocket now. Where I slip my hand in and remind myself I lived in Italy for a while.

The British penny must be from my visit to London last winter, where I met up with my fellow muse Kirstin and had a fabulous weekend wandering around with my camera. What a joy that was, to connect with her and her family in person. I’ll keep that memory safely tucked away in my pocket too.

We find our lives are filled with these little memories, tucked away to be discovered again and again or in plain sight to remind us often. Our house is a veritable story book, the items “before Italy” and “from Italy” blending in to this “after Italy.” The physical space we live in has changed as we shift the elements in our lives to encompass our experience. My style of clothes has changed. My photographs have changed. It’s all a reflection of the personal changes that living abroad has brought. They are the concrete reminders that we did live in Italy. Our time there was real.

If it weren’t for the contents of my pocket, I’m not sure I would believe it anymore.

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So Far Away

I’ve been thinking a bit more about Italy lately. Missing it a bit more. I’m happy to be back, it’s been a whirlwind of moving and excitement. It is good to be back, so good, but there are still things that I miss. I miss my walks in Parco di Monza. I miss the idea of Venice being three hours away. I miss being in the same time zone as my European friends, or even a time zone that I could easily chat online with my East Coast friends. Pacific Standard Time seems like it is at the edge of the world.
I’m finishing Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea right now. A beautiful, short book, full of much wisdom. I was reading it in Italy, but it got lost in the shuffle of moving. On going from her island writing retreat back to her life in Connecticut, she writes:

For the natural selectivity of the island I will have to substitute a conscious selectivity based on another sense of values–a sense of values I have become more aware of here.

I feel like that’s what I’ve done with my time in Italy, found a set of values that guide my creative life. Distilled them down and brought them back. It’s worked well.

For all that planning, it can never change the physical difference. It doesn’t change the yearning I feel when I look at photos from my time in Italy. These feelings are something that probably only time and space will help with. Nothing can diminish the personal changes that I made while in Italy, but that only helps so far on a day when I realize I’m now living far, far away.

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