Finding Stillness

What do you do when one of your oldest and most treasured blogging friends announces that she will be holding a still life photography workshop for three magical days at her brand new studio in Rivers, Manitoba . . . and another of your oldest and dearest blogging friends invites you to come stay at her house just twenty minutes from the workshop . . . and those two sweet friends also happen to be among your favorite photographers in the entire world?

If you're me, you thank your lucky stars, and you book a flight to Manitoba.  

In my post last week I mentioned that I've been a thousand miles away both literally and figuratively.  Really, I've been two thousand miles away, but the miles cannot begin to measure what my time at Kim Klassen's The Studio meant to me.  

Finding Stillness was much more than a workshop.   

It was a time and a place where we had the freedom to set up a shot, and to keep coming back to it as the sun moved across the sky over the course of the day--no distractions, no responsibilities, no other task than to play with color and focus and shadows and light.

It was a space filled with well-worn tables and chipped-paint chairs and shelves of cups and bowls and books for us to use as we practiced making magic.  

Kim Klassen giving a demonstration on how she makes her magic

It was also the place where after years and years, I finally got to meet my two incredible friends for real . . . and to watch them work . . . and to soak up their brilliance.

Aeleen Sclater setting up a shot

Barb Brookbank, Diana Foster, Kim Klassen, and Shelley Rounds out for a morning walk on the trail

And it was, perhaps most importantly, three whole days that I got to spend with ten inspiring and talented photographers from the United States, Canada, and the UK.     

Carol Hart and Diana Foster

We talked shop--lighting, cameras, lenses, techniques and tips--but we also talked life.  And we laughed.  A lot. 

Ilse preparing a gorgeous salad while Xanthe Berkley, Barb Brookbank, and Barbara Skrobuton shoot

We also ate the most delicious and nourishing food, cooked by Kim's mom as well as by Aeleen, and by Aeleen's friend Ilse, an incredible chef who graciously let us photograph her preparing our gourmet lunch on the final day of the workshop.  It was a relief to be in a room full of people who not only didn't roll their eyes when I grabbed my camera to take endless shots of a gorgeous basket of peppers or a bowl of fresh salad tossed with line vinaigrette, they grabbed their cameras, too, and we all happily snapped away.

And then there was the stillness.  I found it each day in moments both expected and surprising.  We all shared an hour a day of silence, during which we were free to keep photographing or to process shots, read a book, write, take a nap--whatever our hearts desired.  I treasured those hours, as I'm naturally a pretty introverted person who loves to spend most of my time working in silence.  

But I discovered many times of quiet stillness throughout the day, even working side by side with other photographers.  It was easy to simply be.  Kim created such a light-filled and welcoming space that I think we all felt at home, whether we were gathered around Carol Hart giving a shop talk on using studio lighting or watching Xanthe Berkley make one of her incredible stop-motion animations or learning the secrets to gorgeous top-down shots from Barb Brookbank.  

The feeling of home extended beyond the four walls of Kim's studio to the town of Rivers itself, where we took walks, went out for supper, and popped into some of the local shops.  Everywhere we went in this small prairie town, people welcomed us, asked where we were from, and swapped stories.  I can't imagine a more perfect spot for a photography retreat.

Kim's sweet dog Ben was our muse and companion.

For me, the retreat extended beyond Rivers all the way to Aeleen's beautiful house on the prairie.  There, I got to meet her husband and one of her sons, hang out with her in the evenings, and run out the front door, into the fields each morning with her sweet pup Zoe.

Morning light in the room where I stayed at prairiegirl's place

Everything in prairiegirl Aeleen's world is arranged with love.  The shots above and below were taken in her house.  I didn't have to set them up, because this is just how she sees things, how she crafts beautiful vignettes at every turn.   

me and beautiful pg (Aeleen)

On my last day in Manitoba, I got to roam around early in the morning, taking shots full of color and texture at Aeleen's like the one above.  And her gardens!  And her studio!  I think I need to save them for another post.  There's too much to share.

As if staying with Aeleen were not treat enough, on my last night there, she took me to her neighbor Willi's Octoberfest, where we watched the full moon rise over the fields, and I got to see the biggest, most impressive bonfire of my entire life . . . not to mention fireworks and a fire lantern being launched.  Fire was definitely the theme of the evening!  And Abba.  Did I mention Abba?  There was much dancing to Abba.  Perhaps there wasn't much stillness that one night, but it was a time I won't soon forget.

Spoons and leaves at prairiegirl studio ~ love

Since returning to my own life back on the coast of Maine, I've been swamped with work, but I've also been finding that my week in Manitoba is very much present in my mind in heart.  The people I met there, and the time we spent simply sharing our love for taking photographs, have helped me to see why I turn to my camera so often, why I set up corners all over my house, always chasing the light, always seeking to discover a mood, a moment of stillness that once I've captured it, will always be mine . . . and maybe someone else's, too.  

Ben

I found myself using one hashtag again and again on my Instagram account while I was in Manitoba: #feelingblessed.  Thank you Kim, Aeleen, Xanthe, Carol, Diana, Barb, Brenda, Dorry, Shelley, and Barbara for three days full of more blessings than I can count.  

Moody Me

Hello, my friends!  I can't begin to tell you how much I have missed being here on the blog this past month.  There I had made a big promise to post about our Brimfield adventures, and then I just fell off the map.  Two things happened: first, my little Brimfield post kept growing and growing into a big, all-encompassing flea market post.  Not unlike Brimfield itself, it started spilling out over the sides and becoming a little more than I could handle in just one brief post, so I've decided to develop it more and take my time with it.  Second, my life speeded up much faster than I had planned.  I have too much on my plate with work right now, and I haven't been able to keep up with, well, much else.  

But all that is boring.  All that matters is that I'm here now.  I managed to steal some time this week to do a still life shoot or two--woohoo!  The shot above is a vase I inherited from my Memere.  It's filled with purple and chartreuse posies from our gardens.  The backdrop is an old, beat up blackboard.  The fabric is a pretty scarf I bought in London at Spitalfields.  The lighting is my steady favorite--the moody north light I get coming through the window in my study/studio.  Have I told you before that this window is beside the bathroom door, so I end up doing a lot of shoots against that door, which often means blocking access to the bathroom for hours.  Good thing we have a second bathroom downstairs!

I was thrilled to discover this morning that the photo had been included by my amazing friends Kim and Aeleen in their #fouriadorefriday feature on Instagram.  You can take a peek at the beautiful grid they selected here.

This week here in coastal Maine we are finally having springish/summerish weather!!!  The sun is shining and the gardens are bursting with life.  I'm working in them whenever I have a moment to spare.  You'd think all my photos at the moment would be flooded with light and white and beachy sunshine, but I'm kind of loving dwelling in the darker, moodier realm right now.  The shot below is a "portrait" of Mr. Magpie.  Those who know him know why this is a portrait.  ;)

Sending a warm hug, lovelies!  More very soon.  xoxo Gigi

A Year and a Word

My word for 2015 is see.  Of all my senses, I am most inspired by sight, which is a bit ironic, I suppose, since I have weak eyesight, both near and far.  If you were to watch the steps I need to take to set up and shoot a simple photo like the ones of these pears, you might wonder why I bother.   

And yet, I cannot imagine my life without photography or gardening or design.  My writing process is also profoundly influenced by imagery, whether I'm crafting a poem, an essay, an article, or a piece of fiction.  A good sentence begins for me with an image and moves from there.

I'm grateful for the technology that lets my weak eyes see, and I never take it for granted.  I chose this word for 2015 to remind myself to use my eyes, my mind, and my heart to really see, to take in the play of light and shadow through a lace curtain on a summer afternoon or the rough and nobbled grain of the wood on an old farm table--to see things as they are, on their own terms.  And this goes for people as well as things . . . and animals, too.  I want to foster in myself a greater sense of empathy for others and for whatever journeys they may be on.  

I have a full year ahead in my work life as well as my home life, and I know that truly seeing will require me to stop and take long stretches of time.  I am often good about guarding and using my writing time to its fullest, but I need to be better about sitting still and being quiet just to simply see. This will make me a better artist, a better writer, and, I hope, a wiser and richer me.  

I gave myself the gift this new year of signing up for a still life class with my dear friend Kim Klassen.  Kim is one of the most inspiring people I know, so if you are looking for some creative inspiration in 2015, take a peek here.  For me, Be Still--Fifty-Two couldn't be a more perfect way to take that time I need to see.

Have you chosen a word for the year?  If so, please feel free to share it in the comments.  I'd love to learn what word you've selected and why.   

December

Like much of the northeastern US, we had a snowy Thanksgiving.  I woke early and peeked out the back window to discover several large branches of the great old white pine scattered across the yard, and dozens of juncos, sparrows, finches, and squirrels hustling about, gathering up the black-oil sunflower seeds that were now easy to spot against the crisp, white snow beneath the feeders. 

All weekend I said thank you's in my mind, humming Peanuts Christmas music to myself and feeling grateful for the roof over my head and the calm center our little house provides when the cold winds--both real and metaphorical--rage outside.  Family and friends gathered.  There were dinners and leftovers and parties, plus late-night movies and early morning pumpkin pie.  

And this morning I flipped the calendar to a new page.  Ah, the chimney cleaners come tomorrow, just in time for all the fires we will light against the growing cold and dark.  Like the birds and squirrels with their seeds, I've been gathering supplies, taking stock.  The shelves are full, and we are as ready as anyone can be, I suppose, for what the winter will bring.  I've snipped fresh greens from the fallen branches to fill the window boxes and line the mantle.  Soon we'll cut down our wild beast of a tree from the local farm where we've gone each year since we moved back to Maine, and as we guide it through the kitchen door, with a great blustery rush the whole house will fill with the scent of a frozen forest.  And so winter will begin. 

On this Thanksgiving Day, I offer two quotes from that wisest of women, Julia Child, in the hope that they might alleviate any little moments of holiday stress.  Keep them in mind as you mash your potatoes or as you reach for your second helping of stuffing.  

"With enough butter, anything is good."

"People who love to eat are always the best people."

xo Gigi

Giving Thanks

I keep thinking about what I want to say for this, a post of thanksgiving, and I am struggling to find the words.  I usually keep my personal life and my blog life quite separate, writing only about the things here that inspire me and feed my creative spirit.  

Giving thanks for such things is easy.  I feel blessed to live in a beautiful part of the world, to have friends and family in abundance, to have food in my cupboards, and to have a roof over my head.  For these and so many other blessings I am grateful beyond measure.  I can blurt out my thanks without thought or hesitation.  

There is something else I am grateful for, though, and it is harder to express.

This year has been a difficult one for me and for some of the people I love most.  Truly, it has been a year that has sometimes felt like it was endured more than lived.  That's probably not a good thing to say aloud in the land of lifestyle blogs, where things tend to feel rather nicely tied up with candy-striped baker's twine.  Nothing in life has felt nicely tied.  All has been at loose ends.

The ends are still loose, and even a bit frayed at the moment, but that's just it--I don't care.  I am grateful for this truly horrible year.

I am grateful for what it has taught me about empathy, about love, about holding on tight with both hands, and about letting go, too.

I am grateful for what it has forced me to face and for what it has forced me to feel.  I am grateful that I've had the chance to learn very difficult lessons from someone much wiser than myself--and to learn them in the most loving and supportive of ways.

I'm also grateful that even on the most wretched of days, there is always room in my heart for a walk through fields and woods.  Yes, I am truly blessed.

 

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The Gifts of Blogging: A Publication and a Giveaway

Happy November!  Here in Maine it has started off just as any self-respecting November should: with bone-chilling cold and torrents of rain.  I don't mind one bit, as this gives me the excuse to drink cups and cups of chocolate yerba mate latte, and to sit down with the latest copy of Artful Blogging.  For years I've looked to the pages of this gorgeous magazine for inspiration and community, so it's with giddy joy that I get to share the news with you that my writing and photos are featured in this issue.  And I'm even more excited to tell you that to celebrate, I'm giving away one free copy of Artful Blogging to a reader of The Magpie's Fancy!  Read below for more details about how you can enter the giveaway.  

Somebody pinch me.  What a thrill to see my work included with so many talented bloggers, writers, artists, and photographers.  I was especially over the moon to learn that two of my blogging friends, Kim Klassen and Beth Mcwilliams, are in this same issue!  That makes the whole experience all the sweeter.  

I've been writing and publishing for more than two decades, but this particular publication means more to me than most, because when I started blogging six years ago, I had no idea that it would become such an important part of my life.  I write a bit about that journey, and about how the more I played and experimented with photography (a real trial by fire), the more I couldn't tell where writing ended and photography began for me.  Each inspires the other so much now that I can't imagine not doing both.  I hope my article will give other writers and bloggers some inspiration for their own work--where to begin and how to enjoy the process along the way.

There is one other reason that this publication means so much: simply put, I had nearly given up blogging when the editors at Artful Blogging contacted me about doing a feature.  It wasn't that I had stopped loving writing posts or that I no longer wanted to connect with readers and fellow bloggers.  It was that feeling that I've heard so many writers and bloggers talk about of being pulled in too many directions by social media, by work, by family, and life's many other obligations.  

The early years of blogging had been straightforward, but now I felt like once I had published a post, I needed to share it on Facebook, Tweet about it, Instagram it, Link to it on Flickr, and otherwise communicate in every way humanly possible short of sending smoke signals to subscribers.  My old warm and friendly blogging community had become scattered over the years by the onslaught of social media.  We were doing our best to keep up with each other, but sometimes it was just overwhelming.

And so, I had cut back dramatically on posting.  I was working on writing and photography projects, and I didn't even realize that I was missing blogging.  And then I began work on the Artful Blogging piece.  It reminded me all over again of why I'd started to blog in the first place.  This place, this blog--this is pure joy for me.  Whether I have 10 or 10,000 readers, I get to write about and photograph the things that inspire me.  I get to connect with likeminded people.  And I get to read their stories, too.  I can't imagine a better reason to be here.

And so, as a gift of friendship and community--and of my heartfelt thanks for visiting me here--I'm offering a giveaway of this new Winter 2015 issue of Artful Blogging.  To register for the giveaway, simply leave a message on this post by Wednesday, November 5, at noon Eastern Standard Time.  

All are welcome to enter, wherever you live and whether this is your first time visiting or your 500th.  I know many of you prefer to send me emails or Facebook messages.  If you would, for this contest, please leave your message here on the post.  That way I can be sure to keep track of entries.  You don't need to type in one of those awful codes to prove you're not a robot.  Just leave your comment along with your name and an email address where I can reach you, and I'll see it and then approve it for publication.  Please let your friends know about the contest, too.  

If you've ever read Artful Blogging, you know what a truly gorgeous and inspiring publication it is.  If you don't want to wait for the contest, you can purchase your copy at any local bookstore that carries Stampington & Company publications in its magazine section, Barnes & Noble, or Books a Million.  You can also buy it directly from Stampington & Co.  

Thanks, as always, chickadees, for being so wonderful.  xo Gigi  

Blossoms and Butter Biscuits

I have a heart full of thanks for friends and readers who shared their thoughts on my last post.  Your emails, Facebook messages, and comments on the blog gave me loads to think about, and also cheered me up a bit about the fate of blogging--as well as the fate of reading in general.  We all seem to be sensing the change in the wind, but many of us still seek real writing and real depth, whether it's online or in the pages of books.  While I worry about the longterm fate of reading, for the moment, I know I am part of a community of passionate thinkers, readers, writers, and makers.  

I will be moving over to the new blog sometime soon, but in the meantime, I'll keep posting here.  My biggest challenge at the moment is simply getting out of my own way.  I have so many irons in the fire, so much work that I'm doing, and so many roadblocks to navigate as I move forward that some days I wonder how I'll ever make it all happen.  Some days it would be easier to go back to my old life.  Some days I want to give up.  Winter doesn't help.  I know it's March, which means spring is around the corner, but here in Maine we have more snow coming tomorrow, and more predicted for next week.  I truly think that if I could just dig in the dirt again, the part of my spirit that is broken would begin to mend.  Soil and sunshine and the smell of grass would fix it.  Since they are still weeks away, I've been filling the rooms with pockets of blooms--campanulas and grape hyacinths and forsythias for forcing.  

And when flowers alone are not enough, there's always chocolate.  If your spirit is feeling as beaten as mine is, I recommend this chocolate pudding recipe.  I've made it twice in the past three weeks, and both times have resulted in empty bowls and the kind of deep, satisfied sighs that only dark chocolate can cause. 

If chocolate pudding still falls short of curing what ails you, then bless your little heart, I made some maple syrup butter cookies the other night that I can honestly say did the trick for me . . . at least for an hour or two.  Now that it's nearly maple syrup season here in New England (Maine Maple Sunday is March 23), these will be the perfect spring cookies to make for dipping in your Earl Grey.

The Magpie's Maple Syrup Butter Biscuits

1/2 cup butter

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/3 cup maple syrup

3/4 cup unbleached white flour

1/4 cup almond meal/flour (I used Bob's Red Mill brand)

~Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

~Cream butter, vanilla, and maple syrup together.

~Add flours and beat until blended.

~Pipe or spoon onto a parchment-lined baking sheet to make 1" round cookies.

~Bake 12-15 minutes until lightly browned around the edges.

~Cool on a rack, then dust with powdered sugar. 

Notice I don't have a single picture of these little wonders.  You will have to make them yourself and take beautiful shots of them on a rustic farmhouse table with powdered sugar sprinkled artfully around.  Please be sure to cross-process the images, giving them just the right amount of faded, nostalgic, old-timey charm.  You know that's what I'd have done had I not been too busy baking--and then eating--these bundles of floury, buttery joy.  Do make sure to include the almond meal.  I think that is the key to their beauty.  It makes them slightly chewy, yet light and crumbly, too.  Wouldn't it be lovely if everything in life were so satisfying?   

Photography News and Heartfelt Thanks

Photo from Edible Long Island

Just a quick note to share a couple of pieces of happy news.  One of my photos appears in the inaugural edition of Edible Long Island, a beautiful magazine, which you can view here (options for various devices and screens are available).  My shot of squash blossoms appears on page 34.  Paper lovers can order print versions of the magazine, too.  So old school.  

I'm also pleased as punch that Getty Images has picked up several more of my photos.  The first few can be viewed here.  More will be added in the coming days.  

I want to end this post by saying thank you to everyone who left comments here or sent me emails about my last post.  It was difficult to write it; harder still to click "publish."  I almost deleted it, which is something I've never done before in all these years of blogging.  Your words made me decide to leave it up.  Thank you, my friends.

xo Gigi

News, Shameless Self-Promotion, and Heartfelt Thanks

I hope you all had beautiful weekends.  Here in Portland, Maine, it was all about local crafts, local food, and great local shops.  The highlight for me was attending the Picnic Holiday Sale.  Click here for links to many of the amazing craftspeople and artisans who were selling their wares.  Most of them have online shops where you can buy their glorious work.

I also wanted to share a little of my own publishing and photography news with you.  Have been meaning to for ages, but as Mr. Magpie will tell you, I stink at self-promotion.

A piece I wrote on Polish Gypsy poet Papusza was published online in The Gypsy Chronicles.  If you head over to read it, you'll learn a bit about this fascinating woman.  She was very much the center of my academic research and work for an important period in my life, and I'm thrilled to be able to share some of her story on such a fantastic site.  Thank you, Alison Mackie, for publishing this essay.

And finally, I just wanted to let you know that one of my photographs, "Peonies," is available for purchase at Fine Art America.  Prints start at $22.00, but you can purchase a greeting card for $4.95, a pack of 10 cards for $2.45/card, or a pack of 25 cards for $1.75/card.  I'm thinking it might make a nice holiday gift for peony lovers.  :)

Thanks for reading along with me, and for offering such wonderful comments, here and via email and face-to-face.  I love this online community of ours, especially when it spills over into our snail mailboxes and our everyday lives.  Blogging has changed a great deal since many of us started back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, but as we redefine ourselves and our blogs in relation to the onslaught of social media, I'm finding that the true blue friends I've made along the way are just that--friends--and this makes me happier than I can possibly say.  

xo Gigi