bright and dark

I struggle with self portraits.  Since I began my photographic journey last year I've attempted self portraits from time to time.  This usually takes the form of me holding my camera out in front of me, or setting it on a stool and trying to find some light to hide the worst.  I take at least 50 or 60 frames, download them onto my computer, and then delete them all with a pained expression on my face.

It's the usual - seeing myself on film is a shock.  I feel 30 on the inside but look (and am) 43 in reality.  The dark shadows, the crows feet, the lines from nose to mouth.  It hasn't been helped by Sweetpea's loving snuggles at bedtime as she pats the loosening skin on my neck and chest and says affectionately "You're growing granny skin."  But two weekends ago I was camping with friends and on looking at a photo of me with my dearest friend whom I've known since our early twenties, I found myself feeling quite tender toward myself.  I didn't have a lick of makeup on and every groove was highlighted in excruciating contrast.  And I thought hmmm.  I look pretty good.  Lived in, but not bad.

So I'm determined not to delete them all going forward.  And in an effort to honour this new found empathy for my exterior, I also want to embrace what's unique about me on the inside.  That the darkness that sometimes clouds my world is what makes me ME.  That I might not feel so grateful, or work so hard at being a better mother, if I didn't have that occasional darkness.

I'd love to see your own self-portraits if you feel brave.  Sit beside a window with natural light and think of what brings you joy or remember a person or time that evokes a feeling - melancholy, contentment, amusement.  Then click.  

Check out my inspiration for this post, the Beauty of Different blog and companion flickr pool from chookooloonks.  (Her book is on my birthday wishlist....)