Gettin' all kindsa ugs

My sister calls it “gettin’ all kinda ugs”--as in, getting all ugly, making crazy faces & expressions as you really get into a song and sing aloud like it’s nobody’s business.

Well, I call it having a good time singing along to the old school beats. The joy of remembering the sophistication of tape recording, the high tech of pagers and secret agent pager code, waiting all day for that ONE song on the radio, and doing that whole point, open, and close thing with your fists, as you sang to that imaginary crowd and imagined yourself busting out the coolest dance moves in front of the crowd. Yep….the good ol’ days that were tied into the best of the old school rap and hip hop and R&B.

Yes, that’s right. Some songs just wanna make me get all kinds of ugs.

Just last week marked the 10 year death anniversary of one of my all-time favorite artists, Aaliyah. And in the midst of my own little party in my car on the way to work, I dug out her One In a Million album and immediately got lost in the captivating trance of her hit “Let Me Know”.

It’s weird how songs take you back into a chapters of your life, how it touches upon old memories and even makes you laugh remembering the weird outfits you wore that convinced yourself you were the hippest kid in school. I loved Aaliyah for her style and the art of her music and still remember, as I’m sure most true R&B fans remember, the day the news broke out of the tragic plane crash that ended her life much too soon. I remember how sad I was hearing that the music industry lost one of its greatest. I even remember where I was—roaming around my college campus on a typical “I’m gonna melt” type of day in Arizona.

Even now, 10 years later, I still find a little part of my heart saddened as the hauntingly sweet voice of Aaliyah sang my favorite songs, taking me back to a time when it was indeed cool to wait all day for your favorite song on the radio before you hit the play/record button on your cassette recorder, to wear the baggiest pants your body could possibly swim in and still look great, to sport a pager, and most of all to enjoy an era of time in which Aaliyah’s “Back and Forth” made you giddy for the party of everyday, not just a Friday.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I need to get all ugs to this beat.

Happy Monday, to you and yours!

Kick up yo heels and do the happy dance with me!

Fantabulous song! It makes me want to do a happy dance. Just Jesus and me and a whole lotta happy! Oooh and a guitar! If I knew how to play one, I’d be toting that thing around WITH my camera. Ohhhh, yeah!


Be the blessing…happy Wednesday all!
"Hold Me" by Jamie Grace

Dude, you can Photoshop this, right?

I think that when you’re surrounded with like-minded artists be it photographer, painter, hairstylist, or otherwise, they “get it” when you get just a bit too dorky over a light reflected just right. When you just gotta chase that sun for that one last shot cuz it just looks so cool. When you freak out because the click of your camera was not fast enough to capture that fast-fleeting moment at near perfection. They get it when you talk about the seemingly endless challenges and failures that comes with the territory in this quest to perfect your craft. They get it when you still wanna keep trying and trying and trying, though the odds to be a professional artist seem, at the moment, taunting you each step of the way.

Practice makes perfect. And what better person to practice the photography thing than with a fellow artist - my sister! She’s a hair stylist, an aspiring business owner, and a gifted artist herself. AND she was here on a visit that was way too short. Though my photography is far from perfect and definitely more practice, I still had fun. Mostly because I think somewhere deep inside, I needed to hang with another artist to confirm that I was indeed proactively chipping away at a huge goal, that yes I was indeed moving towards my dream of being a professional one day.

My siblings and I are close. And in this afternoon of shooting one of them, I reaped the benefits of having a close sibling bond---I received encouragement I didn’t know I needed to hear. I received critique I didn’t know I needed to hear. I received the loving butt-kick only your sisters or brothers can give. Most importantly I received the opportunity to just laugh and learn during the moments I didn’t know what the heck I was doing. Fear can paralyze me to the point of being so hesitant to create the photo I was envisoning, to hesitate on pressing that shutter release button, to really GO for that shot. I mean, REALLY. I was actually having brain farts on trying to figure out how to pose my sister and at the same time hurry because of fading sunset lighting that I love oh so much in my photos but still don't know how to quite capture. Um, do all of that AND learn how to switch the settings on my camera AND act like I'm confident? Yep, I can still hear my sister’s voice:

“C'mon, you gotta lead your subject, dude!”

“You can’t just say “ok”....tell me how I need to pose! You gotta engage with your subject.”

And of course…

“Oh my gosh. You can Photoshop this, right?” =)

There’s still so much I want to learn about photography. So much I have to learn about my camera, what this button and that button does and how do I make the photo look like this or that oh man, how do you simply be a brave artist not afraid to try? Small steps, one at a time, right?

In exchange for her encouragement, critique, and some much needed laughing time, but mostly just for being a sister I am thankful to have---yes, dude, I can Photoshop anything you want.

Now...if only I can get my other fabulous sibling to smile for my camera...in the meantime, enjoy the preview!

Gonna trust in You only....

I'm bummed that I can't find the full song of this online. Heard the clip and it's awesome. It's this heart tugging reminder that walking with God, being carried by Him, being loved by Him and transformed by Him is hard and great, all at once. Especially to any woman who reads this or hears the song clip online - please know that this is a message that God does  love you with all your mistakes, hang ups, etc. despite whatever life or people have said or made you think or feel. I only believed it when I realized it for myself.

Be blessed.

You
-by Yolanda Adams

From the first day

You came in my life

I knew that I would

Be forever changed

Turn away from all my foolish ways

And in my heart I know I’m truly saved

You showed me something everlasting

And it’s Your mercy that I’m asking for

No longer do I ignore Your power

Your power

Cause You

Got the kind of love that never fails

And it’s the kind of love that never fades away

It’s by amazing grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was blind and but now I know I can see

All of the things that You do for me

You told me there’s no need to worry

Gotta keep You before me

Gonna trust in You only

Every new morning...

It's cool to get a Bible verse in my email, actually look it up, and then find even more cool verses. 

Lamentations 3:22-25

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is  your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seek him…

Meilani. 2011.

It was, as Outkast once eloquently put it, colder than a polar bear's toenails one Sunday. But the sun was gracing us with it's late afternoon golden shimmer and softer light, so we all took a chance and ran around the beautiful city of San Francisco to do a photoshoot of the lovely Meilani.

Ray and Sarah. 2011.

You’re my unfathomable precious unimaginable joy
And you’re exceedingly exciting and abundantly more than I could ask for
With your hand in mine we will pass through time and space
                                          -Jimmy Needham, “Unfailing Love”

I get giddy watching a moment captured through a photograph. I get even giddier when my camera captures a moment between two people who have been given the blessing of each other, the opportunity to love and share life together. Man has written songs time and time again to express, as Jimmy Needham puts it, that “..unfathonable, precious, unimaginable joy” that the love of another can give.

Meet Sarah and Ray. I asked them to be my subjects, because there’s nothing funner (and yes, I said funner) than doing a photoshoot of two individuals in love. Though the locations we shot at were just a little too close to the smell of city marsh waters, these two proved to be great sports as they continued to smile and say “cheese” long enough for my camera to make a photo.

Them Bebots

Yes, I sat around in traffic this morning bumping Bebot by Black Eyed Peas, and yes with that genius beat creation of B.E.P. cranked up in my little commuter car, I had a growing urge to throw my hands in the air and start dancing…as much as I possibly could sitting in a very enclosed spot. This song also suddenly reminded me that I am my husband’s bebot. Yep. I am. It’s a cool thing. And if you don’t know the translation of that word, I shall trust that Google with help provide that to you.

I have to admit, I laughed a little at this notion of being my dear husband’s bebot because I suddenly realized that it translates into a lot of other things. These “things” being that I still have a weird need to walk around the house with slippers if I’ve been barefoot too long. That if the absence of a fork or spoon was ever upon me, I can roll up my sleeves and eat with my hands and survive. (Truly, to be able to clump rice together with your hands is an art form. I highly recommend trying it!) That super sour soup stemming from the creation of the tamarind is pure culinary genius when it’s raining or cold outside. That a duck egg is not just a plain ol’ duck egg anymore, but more like a delicacy my relatives would pair with a beer and call it a day. (I still have not mustered enough courage to savor the duck egg, but will always have respect for those that can consume this and not gag. Quack!)

So go ahead, crank up that genius Bebot beat by Black Eyed Peas and shake what your momma gave you...slippers and all!

Ice cream and other summer essentials...

My dear friend allowed me to do a photoshoot of her kids one sticky, summer afternoon. In the days leading up to the shoot, I racked my brain on a place that would not only encapsulate all things summer, but would also be interesting enough to hold the attention of two very happy and excited kids. My husband then suggested Fenton’s Creamery…perfect! What can hold a child’s attention better than the excitement of having ice cream?

So we packed up the kids in my friend’s mini-van and took off, heading towards that pot of gold the kids knew as ice cream. And believe you me, they made sure to remind us to all scream for ice cream, at the top of their lungs. Gotta love it! A little side note – and maybe this is because I’m not a mom-but man, that mini-van my friend drove was quite impressive. I’ve never known a car to be so child-equipped and ready for any drive longer than 5 minutes.

You know, come to think of it, I think that van could have made a trip to the moon quite comfortably, with its navigation system, nifty DVD player, two secure car seats, and my dear husband sandwiched between them. We were definitely more than ready to roll!


 





I think kids are fun subject for any photographer because they’re still in the stage of their life where every moment is fun to them and they haven’t yet learned how to be shy or to hold back any goofy, toothy grin or funny expression that came to mind. While we adults may have worried about having food or ice cream smeared on our face, these kids rocked those ice cream grins like it was no one’s business!








And while we adults are silently standing in line waiting to be seated, quietly excited for the treats that this ice cream parlor, these kids made it known to all those strangers standing in line that Fenton’s Creamery was the place to be and hey, don’t you people just wanna jump up and down knowing that we’re so close to the treasures of ice cream heaven?






Toothy grins and ice cream with these happy kids make for all the essentials of real summer fun.

Imperfect Me and My Imperfect Friends

We spent the evening with some friends we had not seen in a while along with others we see often. Homemade pizza always tastes better when it’s accompanied with glasses of wine and most importantly, people to share it with. In the few moments when I was not participating in the melodious sounds of laughter and lives being shared, I was basically just standing back and observing. Observing each person circled around the dining room, observing the kids and friends crowded in the kitchen, eagerly and impatiently awaiting the treasure of yummy pizza that baked in the oven, observing each person exchanging laughter and stories.

Each smile, each joke told, each outburst of laughter were beautiful reminders of how wonderful it is to be connected to one another, to be blessed with friends who have influenced and shaped people around them, simply by living out their love for God -- imperfectly, yes, with mistakes made,  yes, but nonetheless, wholeheartedly for God.  

"A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity." - Proverbs 17:17

The Hardy Har-Hars with Hubby

The hubby is seriously the funniest person I know. I think that’s why I married him..so my face could hurt forever from laughing at all his hecka cur-ay-zay funny and not-so-funny-but-it was-a-good-try-let-me-attempt-to laugh- jokes. Even his everyday comments are funny. I keep telling him I need to write a book with all his sayings and haha-isms. His latest? He bought me MAC eyeshadow for Christmas. I bought blush just yesterday.

Hubby: “How is that any different than the stuff I bought you for Christmas?”

Me: “Um, babe, it’s blush. It goes on your cheeks. You bought me eyeshadow. That stuff goes on your eyes.”

Hubby: “Oh. Well, how the heck would I know it all looks like the same powdery stuff to me.”

And that is one of his many man-infused comments. He is quite witty, yes he is.

Celez. Not Celeste.

Back when I was a kid, I met another “kid” named Celez who became a very good friend of mine.

Whoa. It just dawned on me that we’ve known each other for about 19 years. Whaaat? Are we really old enough to say things like that?
I remember getting her name totally wrong. She had to correct me about four times before I finally got it right. I kept saying everything from Celeste (which she hates) to Celeeez. It's a miracle I didn't call her Celery.

It still amazes me that though we’ve lead very different lives as the years went by, don’t live near each other, etc., we can still connect as if things haven’t changed from that day in 7th grade when we were trying out for our school's colorguard. (why we ever thought it was cool to twirl a flag in the air, much less get bonked in the face as it came furiously crashing down on us, is beyond me)

Distance has not become a permanent fixture in our friendship--we still connect and laugh about everything. She's seen me through a lot--dumb boys, breakups, family bickerings, a lonely year in another state for college and later on, celebrating with me in the joys of being there for my wedding. And thankfully, she’s remained as wacky as she was the day I met her, and graciously volunteered herself for a photoshoot one Saturday afternoon. Glamour shots, we called them. Her and her pup Coco, the four-legged cotton ball, made excellent subjects and were extremely patient as I adjusted my camera settings for each photo shot and simultaneously tried to make the best of the fading daylight.

Everyone, meet a very good friend of mine, Celez.

Not Celeste. =)










 

those profound quotes

“Just because you accept help from someone, doesn't mean you have failed. It just means you're not in it alone.” – Eric Messer, Life As We Know It

Justin. 2011.

It was a beautiful afternoon and one well spent as my dear hubby allowed me to do a photoshoot of him. He will always be my favorite subject.

Prayer- more than a Band-Aid

Prayer. You say that word and some folks think connection to a God they believe exist — 50% of the time.

Others, the word translates to overbearing religion. And still others, a confusing word of instruction that is given to them by perhaps well-intentioned people…but is still interpreted as weak as a Band-Aid that’s lost its stick.

I can’t speak for others. I never can. But I can speak for me. And for me, prayer has been taking on a whole new meaning, as recent as a few days ago.

My mind knows that prayer is meaningful. But my heart doesn’t believe it until I am suddenly finding myself desperate, mentally spent, and just very much at the end of my rope with no room to tie a knot and hang on, so to speak.

My God doesn’t want a well-rehearsed prayer, a speech of perfectly chosen words, free of the um’s and ah’s that plague my hesitant conversation with others. I’m being reminded that He wants an honest conversation of all that burdens my thoughts and my heart. Even if what pours from my mouth is tainted of melancholy and frustrated anger at life or with people.

I also am reminded that silence is ok in His presence. In God’s love letter to me, He reminds me that His Holy Spirit prays for me when I don’t know what to say: Romans 8:26 “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

You know what that means? It means that I forget that sitting in silence with Him is ok…He prays on my behalf because He knows what I can’t say or what my words might jumble up.

Prayer defined to me? It’s a lifeline. One that I know I don’t use as often as I probably need it. Everytime I have summed up the nerve to call on that lifelime, no matter what state I am in, He never tricks me into thinking I’ve run out of lifelines with him. I find it interesting and kind of sad that a lot of the world believes “There are bigger things in this world, God doesn’t care about my stupid little problems.” or even the lie that God is tired of hearing your voice and that His answering machine comes on when He sees it’s you calling…. again. That’s a lie and if you’re one of those who believe this, it’s my prayer that you’re freed from the ties of that lie, from whomever told you that. Take it from me, because I used to believe that same lie, too.

On the way to work, I heard a song on the radio that I’ve come to really like, not necessarily because of the artist or the melody of the actual music, but because of what the words say. It’s a song by Amy Grant called “Better than a Hallelujah”. It outlines what I have come to believe prayer, true prayer, really is. That sometimes a desperate, angry, or frustrated cry resulting from the trials, frustrations, and hardships of life are just as much a prayer He hears as a choir singing in perfect tune, with polished words.

He sees and hears me upset over the mess of various areas of my life, venting my fumbling, stumbling, jumbled prayer to Him..and He hears a song? Doesn’t make sense, does it? But that’s the truth. He loves a praise song as much as He does hearing someone calling out to Him in the not-perfect state their life is in.

He hears a soldier pleading for his life, a drunkard’s raging cry, a mother’s tears, the depression of a teenager, and even me, a 30 year old questioning God in the midst of the stress of life and search for meaning. He hears all of that and it is, indeed, better than a hallelujah sometimes.


“We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.” – A. Grant

Grandpops

Walking into work today, my grandfather from my dad’s side crossed my mind. I don’t know why. Today is not his death anniversary, his birthday, or anything like that. But again, for some reason this image of him crossed my mind as I pulled back the doors to the building I work in, the start of a new workday.

My grandfather died when I was in my early twenties. Unfortunately, because he lived overseas, I didn’t see him as often as I could have. There are pictures of me with him, my sisters with him, etc. when he and my grandmother came for visits or when I went to visit them overseas as a kid.

I know my grandfather was smart. I know he was highly respected in his community. I know he was from the old, old school where hard work and discipline translated itself into what made your identity. I don’t know that I necessarily agree with this now, but I do have to give him credit for the good intentions I know these principles were founded on.

My grandfather was an immigration attorney. Because some folks were too poor in his area to pay for his help, they’d give him their crops, their vegetables, etc. as payment. And he accepted them. I think it drove my grandmother crazy.

One of the more vivid stories I recall my dad telling me about was the story about the Japanese flying overhead and my grandfather taking my grandmother, my two uncles when they were kids, and his law books with him as they hid out in the jungle. I guess I like that story because well, it happened in a moment that is only in history books for my generation, and that maybe that moment defined the important stuff in my grandfather’s life: his family and his work. I look back and wish I had connected with him more. History books are great, but when the stories are told from the person who lived through it, the story is more complete, more whole, with none of the important elements missing that make it a story worth telling.

Brian and Michelle. 2010.

A day with my bubby and some of our bestest friends, Michelle and Brian. Great music. Fun photography. The Oakland/Emeryville sunset. Caught trespassing by a cop. Ah, I wouldn't have it any other way. Awesome times.

Words of Inspiration

An inspiring word from National Geographic Photographer, Annie Griffiths Belt. Her book, A Camera, Two Kids and a Camel truly speaks volumes to a photographer at any level. I know it did for me.

"The great lesson of light, I learned, is that it is more beautiful when it is less perfect. The full and unforgiving light of high noon rarely inspires. But light that is mottled, broken, fractured, or incomplete takes your breath away. For a perfectionist like me to glory in perfect light was truly a revelation. There was no controlling the outcome, no plan, no magic formula for success. There were only surprises and revelations, accidents and miracles.

I learned that serendipitous, divine light can make anything beautiful--even something as ordinary as a golf course. My happiest moments are still like that: intensely focused and lost in the light before me."

A Far Reach Brought Close

It was one of those rare afternoons where my husband and I had the opportunity to visit a local art museum. I appreciate various forms of art, but as soon as the admission was paid and we were given the “enjoy the tour” smile from the cashier, my mind curiosity immediately made a beeline for the section that showcased its latest photography and their creators.

But for the sake of "slowing down and enjoying each piece of art, I did manage to muster enough patience to slowly pace through the floors of this museum and soak in paintings, colorful glass sculptures, and video art without anxiously tugging at my husband’s hand towards the floor that I knew would house the display of camera work by talented photographers.

As soon as we entered that section of the museum, I felt myself immediately giving in to the temptation to just stare, examine, and ogle like a nerd at each of the photos prominently displayed on the museum’s white walls. I’m not sure what it is, but the photography section of an art museum just makes me want to plant myself onto one of those benches that allow for the artistic and intellectual to ponder the work in front of them.

You know, those cushioned benches that face directly in front of some painting or sculpture where you can just sit and well, stare? Or at times throw in an occasional word of observation type-conversation to shape the silence between you and the person sitting next to you?

Yes. Those benches.

Anyway, as I slowly made my way past each photo, I realized that my eyes couldn’t seem to drink in enough of the color, the details, the shadows and shades that smiled at me from each photo. There were various artists showcasing their work , with stories to tell through their pictures. The stories these photos told were of various subjects, from the poverty in Ghana, to the complication and art of dating, to snapshots of various people in America.

As I stared into the eyes of the child in Ghana, as I followed the shadows and patterns that seem to intensify the story in black and white photo, the more I felt the renewal of inspiration taking over, washing over, pulling me into a wonderful vortex, in a moment I like to think is God sitting right next to me, looking at what I'm looking at, saying, "it's nice, isn't it?"

It's amazing.

Many people say over and over again that pictures tell a story and everything in me agrees with that, more than I can explain. Photos can bring you to places around the world you've never seen before. They can take you into moments of time and history that happened long before your own birth, into the hearts and experiences of people you have never met. They can bring these things that seemed so far and out of reach, up close and truly personal.

I'm glad I didn't bring my camera on that trip to the museum with my husband. Why? Well, I'm slowly learning that there are times when a when a camera will just get in the way of a good dose of inspiration that's trying to make it's way into your heart.

And God knows, I love me some inspiration.

Clicking Cameras

Taking pictures has been this hobby of mine, something I have always liked doing ever since I possessed my first 35mm Vivitar film camera as a teenager. But now as an adult, I realize that what I have been tinkering with all these years was actually a wonderful form of art.



I am weirdly fascinated by that clicking sound a camera makes when you press the shutter release button to take a simple picture.

To some people, that sound is just the sound of a small tool functioning—but to me, that sound means a tiny detail was captured, it means a moment was stopped, it means someone slowed down to take a closer look.

To me, the idea of a sunset isn’t just the sun ending another day, but a rare chance to see gold infused light from heaven.

To me, a child’s giggle isn’t just a random sound in a crowd anymore, but a rare chance to photograph those funny dimples revealed only in their smile when laughter overcomes them.

And to me, my camera isn’t just my camera anymore, but my very own paintbrush, a generous gift from the artists of all artists, the Creator Himself.

As I “paint” these pictures for you through my photography, I hope it encourages you to see the art in the every day, to look deeper into the tiny details, and to fully embrace moments that come and go as quickly as the sound of a camera clicking away.

****
Please join us for a reception with live music at:
Paddy's Coffee House
www.paddyscoffee.com
Saturday, September 18th
6 p.m. – 8 p.m.

A portion of all proceeds from any sale of Maria Abelaye’s work will be donated to World Vision, an organization that serves to meet needs of exploited children, survivors of famine & natural disasters, and communities affected by AIDS in Africa, Asia, and Latin America.