SECTION: Welcome

Here, in the above image, I am photographing my dad, John Blom and my sister (on his shoulders) on the steps of Brooks Institute of Photography in Santa Barbara, CA.  I love this because it says so much, this was the beginning for me… The art of photography is based upon the desire to connect with others and tell a story.

I love to study portraits of people made by every photographer from Alfred Steiglitz and Gertrude Kasebier to Dorthea Lange and Arnold Newman to Sally Mann. I find it fascinating, looking at the subjects and trying to imagine each story. I have always love to read and I think that I am a frustrated author, trying to create a story though my images.  Being able to be confident in my role as a photographer and storyteller comes from the fact that I am confident in my technical photographic ability.

However, sometimes we need to let go of perfection to get to the heart of the story – the emotional impact and dynamic that is waiting to emerge. I have found that sometimes, in viewing my images of others, I can learn something about myself. The reason I established this blog for other photographers is for that reason – to help you learn something about yourself which will help you become a better photographer.

Oh, I will post articles and and assignments and books that I think will help with your business and creativity and such, but the true reason for this is to make a connection and help you do the same. After all isn’t that what we all crave?

This series epitomizes why photography means so much to me.  The subjects are five of my favorite people, three of whom are no longer living.  My two little boys are playing poker with my grandparents and my mother.  My grandmother died about two years after this, my grandfather about a year after her, and my mother last June 19, 2009.

What I love about this series is that it tells so much about each one of them.  My fidgety son, playing with the poker chips; my grandfather with the everlasting smile on his face, finding joy in all he did; my grandmother always with a comment; my other son, so serious, concentrating on winning; and mom, the organizer of the whole game, to make sure everyone was having a good time.

Seeing these again after time has passed, missing my beautiful mother who has been gone for about a year and a half, my boys so much older, my grandparents who took care of so many, pulls at my heart.  I can hear everyone’s voices, if I stare long enough.  That is the power of what we get to do.  Pretty amazing, huh?