Chalkballerina: Weddings and Writings; Whimsy and Whining.

10 things

A few of my friends make lists when they are depressed.  I think they call them "grateful lists" or "happy lists" or something like that.  I think this activity is perhaps the very last thing I would ever naturally do in response to feeling down - somehow structure and delineation are not areas that blossom for me in seasons of darkness.  (may CHAOS and PARALYSIS reign forever). 

But, I also know that it is other people's words and energy and presence that get me through the times when I have no words, and feel no energy and cannot be present.  So here goes...  these are in no particular order... actually they ARE in a particular order, but the particularity doesn't mean anything.  (I know - I am amazingly postmodern).  The whole "counting down from 10 to 1 with gradually growing importance" thing is confusing to me right now. (postmodern and, drunk?)  I don't think this is a HAPPY list, but it is a SOMETHING list... maybe a "here's some things that GET to me" list, which is good enough for me right now.  

#10. 

"We may not agree on abortion, but surely we can agree on reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies in this country.  The reality of gun ownership may be different for hunters in rural Ohio than for those plagued by gang-violence in Cleveland, but don't tell me we can't uphold the Second Amendment while keeping AK-47s out of the hands of criminals.  I know there are differences on same-sex marriage, but surely we can agree that our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to visit the person they love in the hospital and to live lives free of discrimination.  Passions fly on immigration, but I don't know anyone who benefits when a mother is separated from her infant child or an employer undercuts American wages by hiring illegal workers.  This too is part of America's promise - the promise of a democracy where we can find the strength and grace to bridge divides and unite in common effort.

I know there are those who dismiss such beliefs as happy talk.  They claim that our insistence on something larger, something firmer and more honest in our public life is just a Trojan Horse for higher taxes and the abandonment of traditional values.  And that's to be expected. Because if you don't have any fresh ideas, then you use stale tactics to scare the voters.  If you don't have a record to run on, then you paint your opponent as someone people should run from.

You make a big election about small things.

And you know what - it's worked before.  Because it feeds into the cynicism we all have about government.  When Washington doesn't work, all its promises seem empty.  If your hopes have been dashed again and again, then it's best to stop hoping, and settle for what you already know.

I get it.  I realize that I am not the likeliest candidate for this office.  I don't fit the typical pedigree, and I haven't spent my career in the halls of Washington.

But I stand before you tonight because all across America something is stirring.  What the nay-sayers don't understand is that this election has never been about me.  It's been about you.

For eighteen long months, you have stood up, one by one, and said enough to the politics of the past.  You understand that in this election, the greatest risk we can take is to try the same old politics with the same old players and expect a different result.  You have shown what history teaches us - that at defining moments like this one, the change we need doesn't come from Washington.  Change comes to Washington.  Change happens because the American people demand it - because they rise up and insist on new ideas and new leadership, a new politics for a new time.

America, this is one of those moments."

Excerpt from Barack Obama's acceptance speech given on August 28th, 2008 at the DNC.   

Amen, amen and amen.  I heard from my family that Obama is being painted in e-mails and in the fear-based conservative southern grassroots as the anti-Christ.  Yes, as in the actual anti-Christ.  What is my response to this idea, you may ask? "Oh for Christake."  That is my response.  We wouldn't know something good if it smacked us across the face and took a shit in our laps.  Obama isn't the anti-Christ. How do I know?  Jesus told me.  AND I'm from Texas.  (word).  

#9. 

I dreamed last night that my friend Josh invited me over to his house to wax a disgusting patch of hair off his back.  Somehow that dream made my day, in a somewhat creepy sort of way. 

#8. 

(I get to photograph these two at their wedding tomorrow.) 

#7. 

I am officially no longer employed at Mars Hill Graduate School.  

#6. 

My brother Kendall started college this week.  Are you kidding me?!  I feel like a goddam parent I am so proud.  Kendall has also become my running-partner from thousands of miles away.  His daily texts and voicemails consisting of, for example: "I just went running - about 8 miles in oh, I'd say 5, maybe 10 minutes... did you go running today?" have several times now been my saving grace.   Damn straight I went running - can't let my little brother win.  

#5. 

I just read The Catcher in the Rye.   How have I missed reading this book for 26 years?  It is quite nearly perfect.  I felt so many things reading it; it brought up so many diverse reactions in me.  For instance it reminded me that I love life, that people were the same in 1945 as they are currently, that honesty is so often hilarious and heartbreaking all at once, and that I love profanity.  In the words of Holden, "it kills me."  

#4. 

I have a new wisdom tooth... it is freakishly small and pointed.  Welcome to the world little guy.  For some reason whenever anyone has seen this extremely painful new addition to my mouth (my Doctor, my dentist, a certain friend...) the response has been, "AAAwwwww" as if the tooth is cooing and smiling at them.  Somehow this dissonant response makes me happy.  

#3. 

El Diablo - a coffee shop close to my house that also serves beer.  I feel a huge gratitude for this place - as if the place, the coffee (and beer) and it's staff exist solely for me.  Mmmm... I somehow feel loved and safe from a storm just thinking about it.  

#2. 

This is, without a doubt, my favorite song right now.  The Dark, by Guy Clark. 

#1. 

Alli and Jason

OH my goodness.  I am in love with these two people.  I realized while I was editing Alli and Jason's engagement photos that I am looking forward to their wedding as if they were my old friends!   

Sometimes I think I do not need to say a word about a picture - I just need to SHOW you a picture and then you will understand exactly what I'm talking about.  But, because this is in fact a word AND picture blog, here are a few words: Alli and Jason are wonderful.  They jumped into their photo session with both feet, and because of their openness the result is delicious and has a very intimate feel - Alli's face in several of these photos takes my breath away.  There is a tenderness and a care between them that you can feel in the pictures. Here are a few of my favorites. 

 

What I did today... [albums, albums, albums]

Munchies

Growing up my family had an endless herd of animals.  Basically we were a Christian zoo that homeschooled.  It was as if each day a new specimen was invited in (you were always welcome in our house until you pooped on the floor) and made a part of our already large family.  Actually this rule still holds true today.  Growing up this love-upon-entering was more like foster care than adoption - we loved you while you were there, but you couldn't stay forever.  (again, enter poop).  

At one point I remember very clearly having two cats, about three rabbits, a greyhound, a hundred or so mice (they literally double in population every few days), a bird, a hamster (very, very different than the mice), a gerbil (again, it's OWN species... closer to a tiny hyper kangaroo than a mouse), a turtle, some tadpoles, some fish, a few toads and a snake.  And of course thousands of roaches living in the walls and crevices (unwelcome, and yes because of floor pooping).  Here's the deal with snakes and the Brice household: they always, always escaped.  Always.  I don't think we had a single snake who lived and died a "natural" life imprisoned in it's inhumane aquarium.  I am pretty sure my sister Calen always released them - she has always had this devious little streak in her that loves to do anonymous, unhelpful, chaos-creating things like release snakes into the house and make Mom live in fear for a few weeks.  It was probably an adrenaline rush for her; and for the whole family come to think of it... and the mice.   "Robert escaped" she would say.  Suddenly, you would feel Robert everywhere - you would sense him beneath the bed, inside the toilet, under your feet in your next step.  Simply knowing that Robert was on the run created a sense of adventure and danger all around.  

My sister Kensey did not have the devious streak in her - she had the streak of mourning.  If at any point an animal got sick, died, hell even looked a little off, Kensey would throw back her head and pull forth from her commanding vocal chords a series of wails that would shake our home[school].  It was always the goal to give Kensey the "happy" version of any given story - else she start shaking and pull her pocket-sized container of ash from her pocket.  Every animal who ever died in our home was given a mourning fit for a loving parent - all of our homeschooled pets definitely went to heaven, not just because they were Christian, but because God seriously would have to pay attention, even with all the other trauma and wailing in the world, when Kensey threw back that head and wailed.    

We had a guest-house in our backyard that was probably originally a pool house before the "pool" turned into a huge slab of concrete.  This backyard house was filled with livestock, namely mice, in aquariums.  We would go out and pick up a couple dozen, name them for a third time and argue about if we had named them the previous day, play with them, kiss them, and then put them back into their inbred worlds.  

I remember going out on one particular day and in all three aquariums was a new nest of pink babyblobs.  I was delighted.  I felt as if I had just given birth.  By discovering them I had played a pivotal and vital role in their existence.  I went in screaming the good news and my Dad promptly told me not to touch any of them.  He always was a practical old party pooper.  I didn't touch them, I just rolled them.  I rolled them because I needed to count them. Duh.  Who has multiple babies and says "Oh I don't know, triplets or twins, something like that."  Such a response would be unheard of.  

As I rolled baby mice with my right eye and kept my left  out for party-pooper Dad, I counted 23 new babies.  My heart swelled.  Maybe there had been more mommies then I thought!  I would name them all.  I gently stroked the respective Mommies, or the mice who I thought might be the Mommies, and sang sweet mousy lullabies to the babies, and then I went to bed.  

The next morning my Dad had a sickly look on his face.  When I joyfully pranced out to the fake pool-house he called out to me, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  His voice echoed throughout the land.  I heeded him not.  

The horror I felt as I looked in on my precious 23 babies is indescribable.  Not one, not two, not three babies missing: 12 babies missing.  Mousy population control consists of a mixture of getting the munchies and eating your children.  They don't EAT their children, they munch them.  Until they are dead.  

My Dad had cleaned out the mess before I woke up - but he could not convince me that the inbred-mouse-baby fairy had taken them to heaven.  As if.  They were SO not inbred.   Kensey believed it.  I'm not sure how I knew the truth, but I knew.  Maybe it was the way the mommies had looked into my eyes as I sang their offspring lullabies the night before - a look that said haphazardly, "Want a bite?"  I had assumed this look had been misinterpreted by me, I had of course assumed she had meant "Call it a night?" 

If only I had paid attention.  

If only I had kept rolling the babies far, far away from their munchy, soulless Mommy(ies).  

A few days later the surviving babies all had new batches of cookies, I mean babies - but I didn't care. 

 

I was jaded.  I was crushed.  It was my early Annie Dillard moment and I was not about to recover easily.  I made sure my Mom was well-fed before I went to bed from then on.  And any time my Dad looked the least bit sick or asked me not to touch something, I broke out into a cold sweat and wondered how he knew the secrets to the universe.  

Clinton's famous chili

Some things seem so unbalanced to me.  For instance, Clinton does not ever cook.  In fact, Clinton cooks as frequently as I fart.  Those of you who know me know that this is virtually never. One of the implications of these areas of imbalance is that whenever either occurs the other person comes running full speed from wherever they might be (downtown, in the shower, on the other side of the house...), and proceeds to do a dance filled with gasping, choking, huge-and-strangely expectant eyes, and lots and lots of pointing and questioning, but usually no words.  Phrases such as "was that... eh? Yeah? What? You? no? I thought...me? what? I'm sorry... what?" all accompanied by pointing, pointing, always the incessant pointing.  Last time Clinton cooked I didn't eat a bite, I just pointed and squawked until I passed out.  It's like being a teenager who does one respectful thing and is jumped on by their parents, "YES!!??? you did that??? You did your homework?? YOU DID!! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!"  Meanwhile the teenager has closed the door and proceeded to shred each piece of completed homework.  

The other part of this dance Clinton and I have been known to dabble in is to have the perfect balance of incredulousness and hilarity - not that cooking or farting are in themselves intrinsically unbelievable or hilarious (far from it actually... "That cannot have been a fart - can't be.  Impossible." "Can we please stop talking about basil? I laugh and wet myself every TIME! OH that HERB will be the end of me."), but if you get the wrong balance you can seem stupid or cruel.  When the wrong balance occurs you hear phrases in our home such as "WHAT? What the HELL? are you TWELVE? it isn't FUNNY... I farted you asshole." and "Um, it's a sandwich? um, YES it is.  You are so rude sometimes... YES it is a sandwich."  However all this can be avoided with the perfect balance.  With the perfect balance you just seem stuck and overwhelmed and in awe - and usually do not arouse defensiveness in the other person - similar to being a chicken who is still alive after being beheaded and is watching it's body do stuff without a head.   You know what I'm talking about.  

 

A friend recently suggested that since Clinton is in fact cuisine impaired (or delayed, depending on whether you yourself are typically  an"asshole" or  a"Pollyanna"), he should work to perfect three, maybe four recipes.  "That way," our friend explained excitedly, "you could have "Clinton's famous chili", and would always know how to make it."  The suggestion was fantastic, and though I laughed inside at the nearly instantaneous fantasy of Clinton opening a chili-house flashing through my mind, I was in fact thinking about the eventual death of our confused, incredulous chicken dance in the wake of food or fart being produced by their respective previous non-producers.  

If Clinton's famous chili does indeed come to fruition, or whatever it is that beans do (beanition?), I supposed I will have to accept suggestions from other friends as to how to cultivate flatulence.  It really isn't that I withhold; it's more that I just don't produce.  Like Clinton and food... he just doesn't produce.  I had friends (and still do have friends) who could fart on demand, actually I think one of my brothers has this gift.  I could be anywhere with these people - walking through the mall, eating some cake, sitting in class, swimming - and I could look over and say "do it" and BAM, there it was.  Maybe I should have been glad that this is all they produced by a random command to "do it."  To me, a non-producer, this always felt as if I had commanded lightening to strike on demand - it was like magic.  I have learned since then that it is in fact not magic, but gas and air and hopefully that is all, passing through the anus.  

Actually, if Clinton's famous chili comes to beanition, perhaps we can go hand-in-hand in our new harmony.  He makes the chili and I make the noise because of his chili.  Yes, our awkward chicken-dance will be put to rest, but it will be put to rest evenly - with neither of us in danger of seeming cruel or stupid. Until then, Clinton cannot cook, and I cannot fart.  

Trish and Wes (IN love)

Trish and Wes are dear friends of mine.  We have been talking about doing a shoot for oh, twelve-hundred years now, so to actually take them out and GET photographs of them was a dream come true.  Wes is perhaps the most anti-picture person I know, (he kept calling me dirty names and trying to scratch my face throughout the shoot) so the very fact that I now possess over a hundred photographs OF Wes makes me feel a rush like I just stole something very valuable and got away with it (not that I've ever DONE that before...). Wes kept having flash-backs to being 4 years old and sitting on a stool, and then sitting on a brownish hill of carpet, and then having his background screen changed - phrases such as "WWEESSS... not THAT face WES... not THAT smile..." kept invading his psyche.  He would twitch and try to scratch me, and I would understand.  Trish is gorgeous, and she's my friend; I love her.  Her smile is one of the most contagious I have ever seen.  My friendship with these two people is an item I hold in very high regard, and am so very partial to seeing these pictures of them together.  Here are a few of my favorites.   

Stephanie and Brian: engagement photos

I met Stephanie and Brian for their engagement session at a park in Seattle, and by chance there was this massive party taking place: I'm talking full jazz band playing in the middle of the park surrounded by a two-hundred lawn chairs-full-of-people kind of party.  It was the first engagement session I've shot that had full-on live background music throughout - it gave the illusion of a movie-set and was actually very funny.  Plus the music kept scaring the crap out of me each time it started up - if I'd been born in the 50's I'd have just been one ongoing heart-attack.  

At one point during our shoot Stephanie and Brian butted heads so hard that I could literally feel it in the earth beneath my feet.  One of the pictures you see below is taken directly after their collision: I love their expressions!!  They probably both had a knot on the back of their heads to remember our session by... 

Another favorite you will see below includes the shadow from a mast of a boat going by at that exact moment... I had a little spastic moment when I saw the result (spastic in the happy variety).  

Stephanie and Brian's wedding is set for December, and based on who they are together I am sure it will be quite an amazing party  (Okay, okay... I can't wait).  

Cheers to pictures taken in actual Seattle sun - a rare occurrence to be sure.  

 

Jamie and Jorge: engagement photos

Engagement sessions are so much fun!  Although weddings are definitely my favorite, engagement sessions allow for photographs that are sometimes more intimate and stylized than a wedding day typically allows. 

Jamie and Jorge have their wedding date set for September, and we had a fantastic time in downtown Seattle last week taking a few photographs for their photographic repertoire.  Jamie reminds me a lot of my sister Kensey - in fact when I showed Kensey a picture of Jamie last night her first response was, "Oh, wow, she reminds me of me."  I thought that was pretty magical.  

SO, of course I feel all the tender sister transference towards dear Jamie, plus the fact that she and Jorge are very cool people in their own right.  =) 

They kept insisting that they were terrible at taking pictures - a line that I have now come to hear as something more like, "I am not aware of it, but I could be a model."   As you can see, Jamie and Jorge are fabulous.  

I can't wait for the wedding Jamie and Jorge!  Good luck on your last few weeks of details and planning - I hope you can find some time to stare into each other's eyes and think happy thoughts amidst the chaos that inevitably comes with the month before a wedding. 

Tiffany and Benjamin, Seattle, Washington

When I look at the final photographs from Tiffany and Benjamin's wedding day, the words that keep coming to mind over and over are "life" and "gorgeous."  Life - as in that thing we are all after in our own lives - the clarity and electricity that come in moments of being truly present and happy.  Gorgeous - as in WOW.

Tiffany and Benjamin are SO full of life - together and alone - and they are both startlingly gorgeous.  And, lucky me, this means my pictures were infused quite easily with a life and beauty that is impossible to emulate.  These two people adore one another.  There is a sweetness between them that is intoxicating, and I don't think they stopped laughing for the entire day.  There is always something deeply hopeful about a wedding day where the bride and groom can't stop smiling.  

Tiffany and Benjamin: I had a blast photographing your wedding.  You are lovely together and were both so kind to me.  I wish you all the happiness in the world.  May the intoxicating sweetness between you last a lifetime.  

To view a sample from Tiffany and Benjamin's wedding, click here.  

 

The only thing that makes me feel sick with hope.

Hey peeps - I just gave cash money to Obama.  WORD.  You should too.  If you don't, you might go to hell. 

              Hugs and kisses and subtle threats of eternal damnation,

                            Charis

https://donate.barackobama.com/donateinvite

Soon...

Soon I will stop being the semi-proud owner of a temporarily boring blog child.  Imagine saying that to your child, "STOP BEING BORING." Isn't that mean?  That actually has nothing to do with why I am writing, but I just thought of that and thought, "man, that's mean."  Just thought I'd share. 

I realize I have not posted for quite some time.  AND I readily admit that this in fact puts my blog into the "boring" category.   I check my own blog and feel a wave of annoyance, "WHY hasn't she posted?"  "Where the hell are her wedding pictures?"  And if I have been muttering these phrases under my breath in response to my own blog, I don't even want to know what you have been thinking.  Or muttering.  

If there was one word I could choose not to embody in my life and work it would be this word.

Boring: the real B word.  

My absence has been due to the fact that it's Summer!! Who knew!?  I have been thoroughly enjoying a few months packed tight with weddings - and will very soon be sharing a few samples from these delicious events.  

Check back soon...