Silent Sunday

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Silent Sunday

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Silent Sunday

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What is Silent Sunday?

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The Famous People

I don’t really do famous people, as it were. I don’t really have much interest in what they’re doing, what they’re selling, what they’re offering.

I kind of don’t understand the hype, most of the time.

And so, when my photographer friends are all “OOMMMFFFGGGGGG did you see the FUHREAKING AWESOMENESTEST WORK that Beelzebub Malinkovichoska IV put on her blog the other day?! HOLY FRAKNUTS!!!!!!11!1!!!!”, I think it’s great that they’re so passionate about someone. However, nine times out of ten, I have absolutely no idea who they’re talking about.

It shouldn’t be a problem, because we all have personal tastes, right? But then it gets to the point where there are gatherings and parties and workshops and groups and clicks, and I feel like I’m supposed to know who these people are. Almost as if, me not knowing who they are, actually makes me some kind of nobody.

It’s ridiculous.

If someone else was saying this to me, I would (silently) wonder why they were being a bit ridiculous. And yet here I am pondering the same thing of myself.

I wish it would stop, because it’s driving me nuts.

I don’t understand why I’m even hung up on this – it makes no sense. I’m not out to please other photographers, I’m out to please my own clients, and myself, in my own style and own way. So in theory, that kinda dictates why the hell I get so bloody anxious about things like workshops and Facebook groups etc. And yet, I don’t understand why I get so anxious about it.

I feel like I should get to know “bigger and better” photographers, but then, I often think to myself, “don’t I learn best by finding my own way? Don’t I learn best from those alongside me, learning from each other’s mistakes?” Well I guess I should also learn from those above me, those doing better than me.

But the thing is, they are not me. And equally, I do not want to be them. There’s nothing WRONG with them, of course not! But I’m the sort of person who learns incredibly well from her own mistakes…I don’t learn from the mistakes of others (which I guess can be a pain in the arse, but then I’m all about experiencing my own life, y’know?)

 

The worst thing is sounding like some kind of know-it-all, who presumes that there’s nothing else anyone can teach me. PFFFFFFT, and also, AS IF. I have SHIT LOADS to learn. Especially with film photography. But I like my style of trial and error, you know? I’ve always asked for help when I’ve needed it, with thanks to the tiny cluster of people whom I turn to regularly. I’m thankful that…

Shit, you know what? Even as I’m typing this, I’m realising the thing I’ve been addressing for so long in other aspects of my life. I’m clustered in with groups of people who are awesome, and have so much to offer, so much to teach. But they don’t offer the things I need, is all. I’ve been carefully shifting circles over the last two or so years, and have discovered that (once again), I don’t fit in so well; not like I used to fit in.

And that’s ok! They’re still my friends. They’re still awesome people, “famous” or no. But I guess that when it comes to learning, it’s important that not everyone has something for everyone. In fact, surely no one has everything for everyone. I know where I work best, I know where I flourish, and I know where I fall down. I know (more often than not) where to turn, and I know what isn’t so useful to me. I know which circles are hugely informative and wonderful to me, and I know which circles are there just because they’re there (good company, mostly). I need to not get so hung up that other people seemingly flourish and get super excited on things that I cannot relate to. It’s ok to not be as excited as them over certain things and certain people.

Thing is, I know that they don’t get as excited as me over certain things I do, over certain people I speak to, over specific information I’m able to land my hands on. And I especially need to know it’s ok to see other famous people as regular human beings. Some are lovely, some are douchetards, some are everything in between. I find the ones which I can get on with, I can relate to, I can understand.

That kinda makes sense.

So now I just need to stop panicking about my own confidence. It shows its face in bizarre ways, but it’s ok to accept my own confidence. I have some, not a great deal, but I have some. And I need to use it in my own way, and not try to manifest it so that it matches that of someone else.

Once again, here lies the eternal struggle of wanting to fit in, whilst trying to remain true to myself.

Summer Was Awesome, Pt. II

After some brief mad skillz with loom bands, we decided being outside in the garden with kick-ass water pistols was far more fun. Guest appearance from a Scauldron. See also, weird preview of what Big Small will look like when he’s a young teenager. (Wtaf.)

The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h The Smalls in The Garden, July 2015, 645af 400h

 

Deets for geeks: Mamiya, 400H, UK Film Lab

Silent Sunday

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And so the Indian gene in our family makes a re-appearance…

My grandmother was half Indian, half Caribbean. I remember I used to look at her olive skin (she was so much lighter than me) and her straight-ish hair, and always thought she was pretty in an odd way. I knew she was half Indian, but I never really understood what that meant. She was always my Granny, I didn’t need to know anything else.

My mom blames Granny for my appearance; my nose isn’t as wide as a typical afro-caribbean nose, my eyes are very almond shaped, and my skin (though sensitive to everything under the sun) isn’t quite as “rich” as I see in other black girls. She also says that Granny used to pinch and squeeze my nose as a baby, so I wouldn’t have a wide nose. I still laugh at that.

Earlier this year, my ace brother and his gorgeous partner had their first child together – baby Yasmin – my first niece! Eeep! To say I was excited to see her is hella understatement. They came down to visit over the summer; my crazy working season meant my Annual Road Trip With The Smalls had to take a back seat. I’m bloody glad they came to visit though, because it meant that I got to whip out my film camera and snap some photos. Unfortunately, Yasmin was mighty pissed off after the very long journey, and change in routine, and house full of weirdos, so she shouted a whole lot. (I probably would have done the same.)

She’s still blummin cute, though. As soon as I saw her, I thought “she looks just like a little Indian baby.” I guess she’s the next lucky one to have Granny’s genes, eh? <3

Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160Baby Yasmin, July 2014, Jay Emme Photography Film P160

 

Geek deets: Canon EOS3, P160, UK Film Lab

Silent Sunday

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