We are piles of bodies on an old Ikea couch. Nailed and sewn back together and chewed on and drawn on and peed on. Dyed from white to turquoise to gray to black to red to pink to now purple, and lots of faded shades in between.
We are tickles and tights, suspenders and lost teeth, elbows in ribs, and uncomfortable extra energy.
We are happy to be touching.
We are squeezed out lemons trying to do everything always ourselves. Reluctant to ask for help.
We are messy tables and messy floors like lunch is a party where we trashed the house. Mason jars and nostalgic mugs holding space in the frame to celebrate our history from Madison to Chicago to Atlanta.
We are sensory seeking, sensory invading, too much for many people. Often too much for me. Food in our faces. Food in our teeth. Awkward and too self aware and not enough self aware.
We are bruised and chewed up nesting apples.
We are the hurt and the comforted. We are the hard parts that make space for the tender parts.
We are the comforter. We are ok to fail, be wrong, be sad, to be strong and brave to try again to get hurt again. We are all of the sad so we can feel all of the happy.
We are curious to a fault.
We are hand me down clothes and hand me down rooms and we are everything we need.
We are rule breakers with the doors closed so we don’t get in trouble. We are aspirational goal setters and one foot in front of the other get it done eventually our way. We are little people in a big world.
We are falling, falling, falling, because we know there is a bed and it feels like freedom.
We are unapologetic and always uncertain. Black and white dichotomies and every grayscale sentiment in between. We are the worst parents with the worst kids. We are the best parents with the best kids.
We are rubbed tired eyes, pinched noses, and pulled hair.
We are tiny buttons and clumsy fingers and just enough patience to make it work, sometimes.
We are the clothes we want to wear. Functional enough.
We are torn up too many hoodies, empty beer cans, muddy knees.
We are tears and tantrums, tinkerers, tools.
We are the hard work and the luck of the draw.
We are today and hoped for tomorrows.
We are always climbing, always imagining, always creating new realities. We are messy desks and crooked frames.
We are sustenance for others. We are multitaskers, doers.
We are untucked shirts and held up pants.
We are just as we are.
We are together.
We are what matters.
We are family.
Thank you, Amanda for reminding me what we are when so many images I see every day work so hard to remind me what we are not (usually in an attempt to sell me something). With every photograph where I get to be in the frame and see my family through another person’s gaze, I am nudged to be less critical, to fight the cringe that wants to make comparisons, to embrace who we are (who I am) right now and not the who I want us (me) to be. This is why I feel so passionate about using a documentary approach to tell family stories. I want everyone to see and feel that their own unique life is worthy of being seen and remembered just as it is. This shoot was part of a Day in the life in Atlanta session, where photographers showed how different families spent the day. To see the rest of our day, follow this link.
