Light and Dark

I like trying to capture images of my kids in a way that feels . . . clean and bright and cheery. Light.
(Hey Jesse. There you are cutting, and gluing, and taping up an old paper towel roll. Remember that once when Anders put tons of toilet paper in the toilet and then pulled it out of the toilet and spread it all over the bathroom? Remember when I came out from cleaning it up and there you were, at the previously clean counter, surrounded by cut up debris, blobs of glue, and tape pieces? Remember how you didn’t pause to look up, busy making mess as you were, but commented, “I’m making you a telescope ‘cause your stressed, Mom.”? That was thoughtful . . . ish.)

But yesterday it suddenly seemed that I absolutely must capture my children in shadows and half-darkness. It’s not that I wanted to stray from the feelings of cheeriness that come with brightly captured moments. I just wanted to capture a little more seriousness. A little more thoughtfulness. Maybe a little more moodiness and drama (heaven knows there is a wee bit of that involved in mothering as well as cheeriness ).

So I placed my girls here and there -- in doorways and windows (as they are beginning to become resigned to me doing) . I turned off lights and turned on other lights. I tried to figure how to expose and take photos in a way that was foreign and unnatural to me.

I frowned at mistakes and felt inadequate by lack of knowledge and lack of equipment. I didn’t get the exact images that I had pictured in my head when I started, but I did have a few  moments of feeling like I’d almost grasped some new principle; some new trick. And, in the end, my experimenting did yield a few successes!