Photos
On Her Own Time - Oaxaca - 2016
The girl on the scooter wasn't the intended subject.
In the summer of 2016, I became enamored with Oaxaca, Mexico's multi-colored, multi-fashioned doors. Stunning in both their simplicity and vibrancy, I took to rising early to roam the city and capture as many entryways as possible in the morning's warm light.
The shade of ripe corn, this door (left) seemed to no longer be used as an entryway, the lush foliage having transformed it into living art. When did the owners decide to turn their door into, well, not a door? How did they now go and come? Did they ever stand in front and gaze inward?
Later that evening while scrolling through the day's photos, I suddenly saw the girl as the subject, not the sidebar. I'd noticed her while pointing my camera in the moment but more as an afterthought, a distraction that could easily be cropped. Now I wanted her to stay. Sitting effortlessly on her scooter, briefly checking her watch where was she going? Was she running late or early? Rushing to see an old friend or a new love interest? Heading to school or to the hospital to visit a relative or to the market to buy ingredients for a special meal? Regardless of her destination, I get a sense that she is calm in the midst of her day.
This photo now hangs in my home office and I've paused often to take it in, especially since time of late has slowed down to a barely perceptible crawl. The pace introduced by the global pandemic five months ago is one that follows its own beat, a pace over which I have little control. And as I settle into this new normal I'm learning to adjust and be still and let go and be present. I hope I am more aware of those around me as opposed to being only self-aware. And, like the girl on the scooter, I long to be calm in the midst of my days.
In the summer of 2016, I became enamored with Oaxaca, Mexico's multi-colored, multi-fashioned doors. Stunning in both their simplicity and vibrancy, I took to rising early to roam the city and capture as many entryways as possible in the morning's warm light.
The shade of ripe corn, this door (left) seemed to no longer be used as an entryway, the lush foliage having transformed it into living art. When did the owners decide to turn their door into, well, not a door? How did they now go and come? Did they ever stand in front and gaze inward?
Later that evening while scrolling through the day's photos, I suddenly saw the girl as the subject, not the sidebar. I'd noticed her while pointing my camera in the moment but more as an afterthought, a distraction that could easily be cropped. Now I wanted her to stay. Sitting effortlessly on her scooter, briefly checking her watch where was she going? Was she running late or early? Rushing to see an old friend or a new love interest? Heading to school or to the hospital to visit a relative or to the market to buy ingredients for a special meal? Regardless of her destination, I get a sense that she is calm in the midst of her day.
This photo now hangs in my home office and I've paused often to take it in, especially since time of late has slowed down to a barely perceptible crawl. The pace introduced by the global pandemic five months ago is one that follows its own beat, a pace over which I have little control. And as I settle into this new normal I'm learning to adjust and be still and let go and be present. I hope I am more aware of those around me as opposed to being only self-aware. And, like the girl on the scooter, I long to be calm in the midst of my days.
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