The short answer: I grew up poor.
Now the long answer. I did grow up with a lot less than others had. I didn't realize we weren't considered "middle class" until much, much later in life. I guess I had all the essentials - food, bad clothes, shelter, love. It wasn't until I was in college (on a scholarship) when I was reading in my economics class that cities count the number of children on the school lunch program to estimate the number of poor children in a community. You already know from the reading the beginning of this that I was on the school lunch program. Crap, I was poor. Still to this day, I don't believe it. Still holding on to the middle class dream. I mean, creditors weren't knocking at our door, we owned a car, had a dog, and we even lived in a large (albeit rundown) house. I had my own room, how is that poor? My mom did an excellent job of hiding it from us or I was just off living in another world.
I never appreciated clothes because I never had them. I shopped at thrift stores my entire life. I was content in old men's shirts and ratty old jeans. I was a tomboy at heart and the clothes matched my personality. Looking back, it's probably what gave me my personality. I walked around high school in shirts that were 6 times too big for me. I'm sure people were laughing at me, but I didn't care. I wore it all with confidence. I actually thought I was popular until my best friend left me for the popular crowd (As I write this I'm beginning to realize I was a bit deluded in my childhood, but I think it saved me from a lot of harsh realities that might have made me much less happy!)
I wasn't a big magazine reader, Rolling Stone and Seventeen basically, so I wasn't constantly looking at images of beautiful clothes on beautiful people. My life was shaped more by the people around me, which was mostly guys playing football out in the street and it wasn't touch football, it was tackle. I can't tell you how many scrapes and bruises I had growing up.
So when I take pictures today, I am a little proud that I can do it for $4.00 worth of peppers at the grocery store. I want people to look at my pictures and see the beauty in the everyday things, not in the expensive props and clothing. I want them to think that they could take that picture if they wanted to; that not having access to expensive things shouldn't hold anyone back.
Don't get me wrong, I still dream of flowing silk gowns and mansions in the background, but I probably don't have the right lighting or the proper grasp of what that all means to make that kind of picture come alive for the viewer. However, give me $20 in used knives and wire and I'll whip something up that will at least make people give me credit for being creative.
I'm rather proud of this image. I took only one shot. I was almost lying in the middle of the street on King Street to get this shot. It's a rather busy street and I get a little self conscious laying in the street taking a photo. So I snapped one and moved my car. It's actually in focus. I usually have to take 5 or 10 to be sure especially with handheld macro shots.
Yesterday I travelled up to Philadelphia to participate in a group shoot at the Eastern State Penitentiary. While my objective was to take pictures, I was really hoping to meet some spirits. It didn't work out that way. No spirits. I was on the tale end of a pretty nasty cold which has wiped out my appetite and ability to sleep while filling me with never ending mucus. I make quite a photographer in those conditions. I'm lucky I came away with any good shots, but the models were kind and patient and we had fun. Arwen, in the shot above, probably lives 5 minutes from me. I didn't need to travel 2.5 hours to shoot with her, but I do love the shot so it was worth it.
