I’m so very excited about this new chapter of the photographic experience that I have the joy of providing to each of my clients. Wall art collections have become my new passion and the passion of each personI have the honor of immortalizing. I wanted to share my most recent collection designed by Beth and her family. These pieces tell the story of her and her first rescue – Harley which led her through her journey into becoming a veterinarian and founder of the rescue; Harley’s Haven. The story crescendos as her son, Connor adopts his first puppy and declares his desire to carry the torch and become a second generation veterinarian. The warmth I feel in my heart in having the honor of telling this story simply can’t be adequately explained in words. The most important part of all of this is the insurmountable joy that they feel every time they lay eyes on this moment in their history.

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Enjoy!

www.kristenkiddphoto.photoshelter.com

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I stared daily and with great reverence at images of their lives before the nursing home. I was enthralled to see wedding photos from a half a century prior – from a completely different world. In their small, two-to-a-room living space they did not display much; an afghan, stuffed animals from grand children, a book or two if they could still read, the Bible (regardless of if they could still read or not) one photo by the bed (usually of a spouse) and often a collage of photos. Seventy-five years or more whittled down to a 16×20 poster board space of memories.

I think about this often when I complete a photo session. These are the images that that they will treasure most. These images they will carry with them and hold on to with all of their might where ever life leads and to its end. These images will help them remember when remembering is an endangered species.

I am so grateful to every person who brings me into their home, their family and into that sacred space in their hearts to capture what is most important to them. I’ve considered this more over the past year, as several of the people who have ushered me into the warm space of “home” have had to say good bye to those that share a place in their souls and therefore a spot in the portraits. Knowing that I was the final person to capture their identity is humbling. It brings me profound joy to offer, not just a photo, but a memory. For that I want to say thank you to all of the people who have welcomed me into their hearts and homes.

I’m often inspired by Mary Oliver, whose words hang like a creed nailed to my heart:

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

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Several months later an image of an ultrasound photo appeared on her Facebook wall with TWO tiny jumpin’ beans (that’s what they always look like to me at first)! Count em’, TWO! I was elated and knew I had my work cut out for me.

What transpired was a year of shenanigans complete with brothers clobbering brothers, boys clobbering parents, a tiny bit of sleeping, a small family reunion, some sock throwing, mud mucking, cake smashing, a few screams and, of course, the milliseconds in between the madness which is when you get that perfect shot.

As I prepared to leave the final session (the one-year, cake smash session), Andrea told me they were moving. I was sad to see them go, but elated I could be apart of the memory making that they will carry with them wherever life takes them.

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“… a rare inherited disorder that progressively destroys nerve cells (neurons) in the brain and spinal cord.

The most common form of Tay-Sachs disease becomes apparent in infancy. Infants with this disorder typically appear normal until the age of 3 to 6 months, when their development slows and muscles used for movement weaken. Affected infants lose motor skills such as turning over, sitting, and crawling. They also develop an exaggerated startle reaction to loud noises. As the disease progresses, children with Tay-Sachs disease experience seizures, vision and hearing loss, intellectual disability, and paralysis. An eye abnormality called a cherry-red spot, which can be identified with an eye examination, is characteristic of this disorder. Children with this severe infantile form of Tay-Sachs disease usually live only into early childhood.”

Sometimes I cultivate a distaste for definitions. Yet, sometimes they are necessary to help us understand. Danny is so much more than the grouping of words that describe his conditions above. I thought about him frequently during the holidays and again on his second birthday, December 31st.

I can’t tell you a lot about him or his family. I entered their home to create a memory. I didn’t ask, not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t feel they needed to relive their journey to the stranger with a camera. They just needed to remember this Christmas, this birthday, this moment.

I can tell you what I saw while I snapped image after image and what I felt when I left. I saw a family decorated with joy and resilience, the way their tree was adorned with ornaments. I felt the presence of moments hanging so fragile and so beautiful, like the bright, glass globes that dangled from the limbs and when I left, I was renewed in the challenge to decorate my life as a Christmas tree, everyday.

Please consider making a donation to support families affected by Tay Sachs and to benefit research development. (Click here.)

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