From my very first collaborative shoot for an anti-bullying campaign.
I suffer from depression and anxiety, especially when it comes to meeting and interacting with people. Mostly people I've never met. So it made sense for me to become a photographer right?
I wasn't going to be one of "those" photographers though. I was going to do landscape photography. I was going to do that beautiful photography you found of old barns, fields, etc., that you find in offices and hotels. It didn't take me long to discover that I couldn't travel to the places I really wanted to so I could take those spectacular photos. I was living in Iowa. We have corn fields and barns everywhere. Who wants to see that up on their walls when they literally drives past it every day?
I was going to have to start photographing people. That thought terrified me. When I got my first camera, I began to take it to the daycare I worked at and took photos of the kids there simply playing and having a good time. I thought to myself, "hey, this is easy. I can do this." Well duh, of course you could Meredith. They were babies. The most non-judgmental beings on Earth.
So then I began to photograph my own kids. A lot. In fact to this day I still do. They are my guinea pigs when I have a new camera, lens or idea in mind.
I even had my first non-family member client and again told myself that this was easy. I could do this. It was a friend of mine so of course I could do it. I knew them. I was comfortable. We had a great time.
Then it happened. I had my first paying, I've never met them before in my life, client. The idea of making some money to put back into my photography investment was exciting, but the idea of having to actually interact with this person was terrifying. I am the most socially awkward person in the world. I never know what to say and always worry about sounding like an idiot when I speak.
The day of the shoot came and I was a nervous wreck. Of course, I found myself talking way too much to my client. To this day I still don't know if they genuinely enjoyed the conversation and my ramblings or if they were just being polite.
I learned something at that moment. My camera was my shield and my craft was my armor. When I looked through that view finder, it was as if I was engulfed by my camera. I had blinders on. I saw nothing beside me, behind me. I couldn't hear the commotion going on around me. I only saw what was in front of me. I only saw what I wanted to capture. What memory I wanted to create at that given moment. My camera consumed me. Suddenly I felt comfortable.
On days that I find it hard to get out of bed, feel funky, sad, uninspired, depressed, I take a few moments to pull myself out of bed and I spend a "therapy session" with my camera. It doesn't matter if I'm photographing the dogs, the grass, the neighbors (sounds creepy but I promise it's not). I always feel better when I'm done. It gives me back my purpose. It helps me find myself.
Who am I? I am an artist. I am a photographer.
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