Opposites Attract……

“We carry inside us the wonders we seek outside us – “

                                                                                   Rumi

When I started thinking about the onehundredstrangers project, I really was not sure what I would accomplish by photographing and writing about the strangers.  As I move forward and meet more people, the purpose is becoming clear.  The purpose has not been learning about the strangers, but learning more about myself in the process.

Meet Charlie.  It was the 4th of July weekend and I had the opportunity to visit our local beach.   We have done so many times in the past and I have found many strangers in that area.  We visited the state pier on this day to photograph some “street photography.”  As I walked to the end of the pier, I saw someone who could not be more opposite than me.  I watched him for a few minutes and became intrigued by his sense of style.  I wanted to know more about him but I passed him by.

Why did I pass him by?  That is a question I have struggled with in my mind.  The answer does not have much to do with Charlie as it does with me and my internal struggles.  Questions that I have asked myself over several months are:  Was I scared to talk to him because he was a stranger?  Was his appearance off putting?  Was I judging him from his appearance?  Did I just not want to bother him while he was fishing?  What is the truth?  Was it Charlie or was it me?  I was afraid of the answer, to be honest.

I passed him by…..regretting that decision!

As I started walking back to the entrance, I had to pass Charlie once again.  This time I slowed my walk to a creeping pace, almost to a dead stop when I approached.  I asked about his fishing for the day and made some small talk.  I really do not know much about fishing but apparently he was receptive to my dumb questions.  I talked to him for a while and explained about my blog.  I learned from our conversation we are completely opposite.   There is that old saying that opposites attract, well this could not be more true!

During this process of photographing people, I have found there is always some sort of connection to the people I find to photograph.  It has been weird in a way that even 300 miles away from home, I can always find some sort of connection to where I live, people I know, family, friends, childhood, etc.  Almost like there is some sort of Devine intervention.

Here is his story……

Charlie grew up in Birmingham on the Western of town.  He moved to the beach 19 years ago.  He has friends that visit him for usually two weeks out of a month.  They fish everyday, usually for about 3 hours.  His family owned a chain of grocery stores in Birmingham.  He attended John Carroll High School, a private Catholic school.  He did not like the grocery store business, so he was a plumber by trade.  His brother ran the grocery store business.  He is a husband and a grandfather.  His granddaughter had just moved and he was missing her very much.  He recently attended his high school reunion in Birmingham.

Here is my story….

I grew up in the Eastern part of town.  I would like to move to the beach, but have not had the courage or the means.  I have friends that I do not see very often.  I am not much of a fisherman, even though my kids love to fish.  My parents were disabled and did not work for much of my life.  I attended public school in a low to moderate level income town and grew up in the projects.  I graduated college with a degree in teaching; however, I hated teaching and now work in the medical field.  I am a wife and a grandmother.  I see my grandson multiple times during the week and miss him when I do not see him.  I would never attend a high school reunion.

You see these differences I have mentioned, would be ones where I would be looked down upon in society.  I have many times in my childhood and even my adult life.   Charlie, may not have ever experienced that growing up.  That is the lesson I must learn from meeting Charlie.  Reality has a way of kicking you sometimes.  Charlie is my reality…to say, my judgement reality!

Then there is the physical differences that would be considered opposite.  Since I delayed writing about Charlie for so long, there were more than listed above.  Either way, it just proves that even though we are completely opposite, we can still be friends.  I have actually talked to Charlie via social media following our meeting.  An update from Charlie is his granddaughter is back home and he is loving every minute of spending their time together.  This makes me happy.

While I sit here and self-reflect on my chance meeting with Charlie, I see my internal flaws.  I almost passed this wonderful chance meeting with a person who was welcoming and open about himself.  Would I have ever had the chance with being so judgmental by my first impression?  A teacher once told me it is that initial meeting, that first impression that people will remember.  Make sure you make a good first impression.  Is that true today with so many differences among people?  Should I be so quick to judge someone based off tattoos and piercings?  Should I stick with my very first impression instead of finding out more about a person before walking past?  Dear teacher, you may have been wrong.

“Judgments prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances.”      

                                                                             Wayne Dyer

So, I left Charlie on the pier fishing.  I never did find out which grocery stores his family owned, but I did wonder.  The next day, I was having a conversation with my hair stylist and a customer (another stranger) at the salon.  We were talking about where we liked to purchase our groceries and meat.  Was it Walmart or Sam’s, Winn-Dixie, Publix, or elsewhere?  I mentioned a local, small chain of stores and the lady said, Oh, the (blank) used to own those and they were great!  Guess I found my answer about the grocery stores his family owned.  God works in mysterious ways…..Rock on Charlie, Rock on!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

the Bench….

When I set the goal of photographing onehundredstrangers, I thought that it could not be that difficult to complete in a year.  Well, I was wrong.  Also, I thought that the strangers would be just people, not things, or places.  Again, I was wrong.  In this case, a bench that has captured my heart.

Anna and I begin going to Gulf Shores on Thanksgiving weekend in 2016.  We had been before usually during the summer or early fall.  The beach crowd had moved out and it was not as crowded as it is during the spring and summer.  Our intent was to practice our photography skills and explore.  And that we did!

We discovered places we never visited before such as Dauphin Island, Bon Secour, Fort Morgan, just to name a few.  On the road to Fort Morgan, Anna noticed a lone bench just where you begin to see the bay.  The bench sits along the shore overlooking the bay that runs along Fort Morgan Road.  It became one of my favorite places to stop and photograph.  The skyline where it meets the water is breathtaking, no matter what time of year you visit.  We visit this bench every time we are in Fort Morgan.

Recently, I have been looking through my photographs.  I normally just use on Instagram (@negativenellie2018) or on Facebook; however, my photography club has an art exhibit with the Leeds Arts Council in July, 2018, and I was looking for a photograph which made me feel like it has a meaning or tells a story.  I remembered the bench.

The bench has an engraved plaque on the back gives the who and when but left several questions in my mind.  I needed to know more of this story.

“How could I find out more about Pop Pop and Jensen?” I asked myself.  I posted a question on an open forum page called “I Love Fort Morgan” on Facebook.  I received many responses with information about Pop Pop.   The is some of the responses that I received which told me the story of Pop Pop and Jensen:

“That’s Pop Pop’s bench. He was an old timer that lived back behind/beside The Pines. He was always around and always smiling. After he passed they took donations at The Pines to build a bench in honor of him there.” – Alex L.

 “That was one of His main fishing spots.” – Debbie D.

“What a pure hearted gentleman, so kind and sweet ! I didn’t know he had passed, just hadn’t seen him. He was a sunshine in my day, when I was around him! He will be missed and, I know the bench, I will take time out of my busy life, to sit there and chat with him, again!” – Marsha R.

The next response is from his daughter and it really spoke to my heart.

“This is pop pop and my son Jensen, one of my favorite photos. There is nothing this man wouldn’t do for him or for anyone for that matter. Jensen passed from cancer at age 5 in 2010. It nearly killed pop pop. He later died from a heart attack but I have no doubt it was a broken heart. Seeing this post couldn’t have come at a better time for me. I needed this reminder just in this moment. Thank you for inquiring. You can learn more about our family at www.jensensheartofgold.com.”

At one time, I remember telling Anna that I would like a bench right beside Pop Pop when I die.  I wanted to have a reminder of a place that I love and where people can come to enjoy the view, just as I do.  Now, I realize this is not a place for my bench.  This is Pop Pop and Jensen’s special place.  I would be an intruder and a stranger.  I can enjoy this place for the remainder of my life when I visit Fort Morgan and have my photographs to view when I am home and add them to my onehundredstrangers, number 5 and 6.  Pop and Jensen can be remembered as they are fishing and hunting in heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can I Trespass?

Being a beginner photographer, I am uncomfortable crossing the line.  If you are a  photographer, you know “the line.”  The line is when to take a chance for a photograph or not.  Most of the time, the line is when there is an old abandoned structure, a beautiful landscape, street photography or a boat.  Yes, you read correctly, a boat!

Stranger #4, Martin, has the boat!  Let’s go back to October of 2017.  Stranger # 4, is not a new stranger but still basically a stranger.   We actually meet him in October, 2017.  I did not feel comfortable asking for his photograph, however, I vowed to myself, if I ever talked to Martin again, he would definitely be part of the blog.

Bon Secour Bay is located in Baldwin County on the eastern edge of Mobile Bay.  The name “Bon Secour” derives from the France phrase meaning “safe harbor.”  The town is home to large water oak trees covered in Spanish Moss, great blue herons, brown pelicans, dolphins, and the occasional alligator.  Shrimp boats line the river beds and are used by the locals as a primary source of income.    You will find some great markets with fresh seafood.  We love Billy’s Seafood.  Always willing to let us take a few photographs on his pier.

Hurricanes are very unpredictable and once they make landfall, the damage can be devastating with destroyed structures and flooding.   Bon Secour has seen it’s share of Hurricane landfalls.  Hurricane Frederick, Ivan and Katrina have all affected this little town.  Anna and I had heard about Bon Secour and we decided to visit.

In 2004, Hurricane Ivan made landfall just a few miles from Bon Secour, causing extensive wind and flooding damage.  Currently you will find old shrimp boats lining the shores of Bon Secour which have become an attraction for photographers.  Martin is now the proud owner of the “Morning Star.”  Even though he does not feel all that proud.

Back to Martin!  Anna and I travel this route every time we visit the Coast.  We had visited several times and always find ourselves driving back and forth from Billy’s Seafood to Aquila Seafood.  In between, you will find old shrimp boats that have been washed ashore during Hurricane Ivan.  They have so much character and patina from years of salt water and weather wear.  Absolutely stunning structures.

I had finished up at Billy’s Seafood photographing my usual shrimp boat, they Teri Malynn.  And headed east toward Aquila.  As we approached the Morning Star, we noticed a man in his driveway directly across the street from the shipwrecked boat.  I asked Anna to slow down and I said, “excuse me, is that your boat?'”

Little did we know that we would then spend 2 hours talking with Martin about everything from the history of the Morning Star to the best gumbo ever!  He talked about his house, his family, his job and every thing in between.  It was so much fun listening to him talk with his southern draw mixed with a tad of Louisiana accent.  He would pause briefly to spit from the tobacco in his mouth.

“Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.” – Henri Nouwen

“You know, ma’am, you are only the third person that has ever asked to photograph the boat.  You know, I don’t know what happens when I am not here, but I have looked outside and find people taking photographs from my pier.  They ignore my no trespassing signs,” he says.  He continues, “and I appreciate that.”  He is mainly concerned about people getting hurt.  The boat is tilted to the side and over the years the only support is an oak tree that is growing up beside the boat.  He explains all the people he has contacted to get the boat removed but it will involve so many government agencies since the hull is full of oil.  He did mention he contacted the owner several times and the owner has since died.  What we, as a photographer, get excited at such a great abandoned find, Martin doesn’t necessarily share our enthusiasm.

Martin gave us his phone number and told us to call the next time we were in town.  He would take us out on the boat and let me photograph the boat from the water.  He told us he would make us the best gumbo we would ever have eaten.  “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s the best, but I can tell you, it would be different,” he says in a humble way.  He tells us a little about how he makes the gumbo and his family recipe.

We returned to Bon Secour in February, while we visited the coast.  We took our traditional drive to Bon Secour and found Martin in his driveway.  “Do you remember us,” I say.  Martin did remember us from October.  We talk for about an hour and promised we would visit again.  I ask Martin, to not let anyone take the boat while I am gone or anyone else get that million dollar photograph.  He promised to put larger no trespassing signs in his yard.  Does any other photographers really follow the no trespassing signs?

-tina

 

Choice or Circumstance

“We should be inspired by people… who show that human beings can be kind, brave, generous, beautiful, strong-even in the most difficult circumstances.” – Rachel Corrie

As I mother of 4 kids, it is important for me to teach them the choices you make all have consequences.  Some choices will come with good consequences and you will reap the rewards, and some will not.  I stress the importance of making good choices.  And, to be honest, I sometimes stress the importance of making the choice that I feel is the right choice.  This leads to a lot of “I told you so” and basically, I am a dumbass.  I am working on this, as I write.

I believe that I live in one of the most beautiful states in the country.  It even says that on the Welcome to Alabama signs, Welcome to Alabama the Beautiful.  We have some of the most beautiful scenery.  We have beautiful mountains, countrysides, lakes, rivers, and the gulf coast.  We, also, have the most unpredictable weather in the nation.

My family and I like to travel to the beautiful, sugar white beaches known as the Alabama Gulf Coast.  We enjoy the beaches, boats, state parks, restaurants, historical landmarks.  The list could go on forever.  This visit was to help my nephew propose to his girlfriend.  Instead of staying in Orange Beach, we traveled to Dauphin Island for the day to help.  It was a spectacular proposal and we are glad that she said, “Yes!”

Then, comes John.  Stranger #3!

“Momma, Momma,” Anna says.  “This guy has biked over 400 miles, he bikes around the country!”  She points to a gentleman who is getting off his pike and just looking around at the beach.  I immediately thought to myself, stranger #3.

John stopped and asked if he could help gather up some of the decorations used in the proposal.  I thought that was nice of him to offer his assistance.  Looking back, it might have been for a different reason.  None the less, it was a nice offer.  I asked him about his bike ride.

“Really, just all over the country,” John said.  I assumed he was from Michigan, because of his hat.  I asked if I could photograph him for my blog and explained about my project, as he listened to me ramble.  We talked about Dauphin Island and the beach life.  He talked about the rough tide the day before.  I knew the tide was rough when I received an alert on my phone to stay out of the water due to the riptide.  The ocean and beach are the most beautiful, restful place I have ever visited but the riptide and currents are so frightening.

I took several portrait shots of John and in each photograph, he was smiling.  He was so cheerful and content.  He talked about his day.  He said that he had eaten a granola bar that he had saved for breakfast and a pack of Ramon Noodles for lunch that he got during the Mardi Gras parade a week earlier.  A float in the parade was throwing them out into the crowd.  He said the local hotel was nice enough to let him come into their hotel and use their microwave.

Wait!  What? It took a few minutes to process what John had just said to me.  John isn’t a tourist or a local.  He wasn’t a snowbird who migrated from Michigan to Dauphin Island for the winter.  John was homeless!

John looked at my camera.  He said his uncle was a nomad.  He traveled all over the country.  His uncle would share stories about his travels.  His uncle did not have a fancy camera, so John assumed his uncle keep mental pictures of his travels (John points to his head) in his head.  We continued to talk during the hustle and bustle of cleaning up the decorations.  He again, offers his help.

I walk over to the table that had been set up for the proposal.  There were some tater tots that was cooked earlier and used as a proposal prop.

“Hey, John!”  I said.

“Yes, ma’am?” John replied.

“Would you like these tater tots for later?” I asked.  “I sure would!  These are not good during lent.” he says.

I say, “I’m sure Jesus will understand, John.”  I repeat under my breath, I am sure Jesus will forgive you.  I wrap the food in a bag for John to have later.

“Thank you.” John says.  Then, he offers to help carry the table to the car.  “Thank you, John!”

Monday evening as we were driving back to Orange Beach, I noticed someone pushing a bicycle over the bridge in Gulf Shores.   Gulf Shores is 28.4 via ferry and 83.5 via roads and highways.  It was John!  He had traveled from Dauphin Island to Gulf Shores.  I hope he was able to travel via ferry.

My eyes wonder back to the road, and I think to myself to myself, is this a choice or circumstance?  I know that I will never know the answer to this question.

-tina  

 

 

 

Six Degrees of Separation

Six degrees of separation is the idea that all living things and everything else in the world are six or fewer steps away from each other so that a chain of “a friend of a friend” statements can be made to connect any two people in a maximum of six steps.

Who doesn’t love playing the Kevin Bacon game?  The one where the goal is to link any actor to Kevin Bacon through no more than six connections?  It is amazing to see how that can truly work out.  Maybe I am connected to Kevin Bacon?  If I am, then I am unaware of that awesomeness!  Or maybe, I have stumbled on a little six degrees of separation in my tiny town in Alabama while working on my onehundredstrangers project.  Follow along……..

I am currently a member of the Trussville Photography Club and we have monthly field trips to various locations.  This particular month, we attended Tannehill State Park.   This trip was more of a landscape type photograph trip and with all the rain that we received, I was super excited to shoot the waterfall and gristmill.  Upon arrival, that is exactly what we found.  The waterfall near the gristmill was raging.  Some members shot downstream, others went to the right and I went to the left.  After taking a few shots, I was ready to move onto the Blacksmith of Pioneer Farm.  They were starting a demonstration and I thought it would be fun to try and capture some photographs of them working.

I begin to discuss my blog with a few people in the club.  I was excited to share that I found my perfect stranger and I only had 99 more to find.  I explained that the project is more of a self-awareness project, so I can become comfortable asking questions, developing better listening skills and become least introverted.  As we are talking and walking toward the Blacksmith of Pioneer Farm, I think I to myself, I may have found stranger number two.

We walked closer and the Blacksmith disappeared.  We talked with the other workers and discovered they have a blacksmith school on the grounds and a they are students.  They tended to the fire and talked with us about the school.  The Blacksmith returned.  I asked, “excuse me, may I take your picture?”  This time with less apprehension.  I felt like I was on a mission.

“Yes, you may!” he says.  He sits down in the doorway of the shop and I explain it will be a close-up portrait and about my project.  He explains to me while I am taking his portrait, that he, too was introverted until he became a blacksmith working at Tannehill.  We exchange a few stories about being introverted and how the feelings that come with being that way.  I laugh and continue with my the thoughts behind my blog and what I hope to accomplish when I am finished.  I jokingly stated that I needed to practice my writing skills because I didn’t learn to write well at Tarrant Elementary and, of course, blamed it all on my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Morgan and that reading round robin game.  I asked him his name and he says, “James.”

James is very well spoken.  Almost intimidating, but I continue.  He starts to speak and points his finger up and says to me, “did you say Tarrant?”

“Yes, I did.” I respond.  He continues, “I dated a girl around the 1970’s and she was from Tarrant.”  What? I am thinking to myself.  I know a lot of people from there and the seventies is the time in which my sisters were dating and graduating from high school.   I, of course, being significantly younger than them.  I would be considered a “surprise” back then, a “miracle or blessing” in today’s language.  I jokingly asked James if her name was Barbara by chance knowing that it couldn’t be my sister because she only had one boyfriend during that time and they were married.

“No, her name wasn’t Barbara.  What was her name?  I do know a Barbara but that is not her name.  Oh, yeah, her name was Brenda.  That’s it!  Dated her in 1970.”  I told him I only knew one Brenda, but he stated that wasn’t her last name.  I offered to find her on Facebook, because finding people was my talent.  Then, he continued.  “There was a Barbara who married my best friend.”   In my mind, there are tons of Barbara’s in Tarrant during the 70’s.  Chances are, I probably didn’t know her or him, but am nosey.  He says, “his name is Freddy Berry!”  Am I hearing correctly, did he just say Freddy Berry?  I look at him and grab by chest in disbelief.  “James, Freddy is my brother-in-law.  Well, he was until they divorced.” (not true, I omitted the snide comment about why they divorced.)  Everyone was in shocked and amazed at this connection.  Just by talking with James, maybe the six degrees of separation is a true theory.  I had never met James.  been to Tannehill or even met a blacksmith.

“Yes, I was shocked by Freddy’s behavior.  He wasn’t at all like that in school.”  I nod in agreement.  He talked about spending his days after school at Freddy’s house and we exchanged memories of Papa Fred, Freddy’s dad.  He loved two things, a cold beer and the Atlanta Braves.  It took me back to when he passed away.  I always liked Papa Fred.  He talked about Mable and how her and Papa was so different.  It just brought back some memories of my childhood and when my sister was much happier.  Those days have been long gone.  It seemed like her happiness was signed over to Freddy in the divorce.  James continue to describe the directions to my childhood home and he was exactly on point.  He could even remember where Brenda lived but, still could not remember her last name.

James, stranger number two who isn’t really a stranger at all.  #justbenice #onehundredstrangers #sixdegreesofseparation #tannehillstatepark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perfect Stranger

Being a mom, it is rare I get a day all to myself. On this day, I choose to attend the local museum for a quilting event where I knew that I might get some photographs of some local quilters.

The Birmingham Museum of Art is a favorite go to place where I can get lost in some of the most beautiful photographs. Ironically, I hated the trips to the Birmingham Museum of Art in Elementary School but find myself migrating there for free time, as an adult. My favorite exhibits are those that are photography related. I especially enjoyed Who Shot Rock and Roll and What’s Lost Is Found.  These two exhibits are on opposite ends of the spectrum but both very enlightening. Of course, the onehundredstrangers project was not far from my mind. Maybe my first stranger would be a quilter at the Museum of Art?

What a terrible day to be out!! It’s raining and cold. I travel downtown with camera equipment in tow. Great!!! I don’t have an umbrella and I don’t want to carry all my equipment, so I take a chance and dart for the door. I find the quilters on the second floor. A large crowd for a Sunday afternoon. I take a few shots and the color just doesn’t seem right and my angle is off. They are not what I had visioned for my quilters photographs. Then I remembered that there is a photography exhibit called Shot in Alabama, that was posted on Facebook, I would like to see while I’m downtown. It was a few blocks away at the public library.

Seems like all it does is rain, rain, and rain in Alabama this year. I hadn’t picked up the camera much since October. It felt great to have it back in my hands after a long time. I drive past historic Linn Park and pass a group of homeless people waiting by the mission truck. The local church was handing out blankets, supplies and food. I thought to myself how wonderful it is to be able to give and help those in need. I continued onto the library.

As I parked, it continued to rain. I tucked my camera up under my sweatshirt and went into the library. The exhibit was small, but the photographs dated back to 1839. The best one was a photograph of the very first Alabama/Auburn football game. Auburn won!!

I continued to walk around the library to see if I could get any photographs of the wooden bookshelves and old book spines. The modern libraries are not the libraries back from my childhood. The smell of old books, old wood and musky. I felt myself long for the familiarity of that childhood smell.

I went up to the bridge that connects the library to the courthouse. It was on the 3rd floor. The elevator was slow, so I took the steps. The bridge is glass and you could see 21st Street below and the familiar landmarks as the City Federal Building and the Tutwiler Hotel. A friend had taken a fantastic photograph with her iPhone of the rain-soaked window with the city and road below. It would be hard to top that shot. I look down and notice a shopping cart parked along the street and wondered if the homeless retreated to the library as a shelter from the rain. All of someone’s belongings parked on the street. Where does one go to get away from the harsh weather? It was a humbling feeling.

I decided it was time to go. I assumed I would take the steps back downstairs. My music playing loudly over my ear buds, and I am walking at a brisk pace like I just had to escape but still in beat with the music. I started past the elevator toward the steps.

I stopped at the elevator briefly. I looked around at the people waiting. A gentleman walked up, and I quickly noticed his cap. It is an Auburn cap. Is he the one? Is he the perfect stranger?

I step into the elevator first and he followed. I removed my ear buds to study his rugged features. I looked at his face, his clothes, his shoes. What is his story? I wanted to know more!

We stepped off the elevator together. And we seemed to be keeping the same pace. How could I ask him for his picture? Do I mention my blog or project? What if he thinks I am a crazy stalker? What if he says no? I had to think quick because the pace was fast. I must say something now.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say. “Do you mind if I take your picture?”

He says, “Mine? I guess not.”

We get to the front of the library and I tell him the location is fine. I let him know that I am just learning and asked if would bear with me, as I adjusted my settings.  He just waited patiently. I took a few pictures and said a quiet prayer for a good photograph that is sharp and not blurry.  I knew that with editing, it would be fixable, but I wanted this picture to be perfect and I didn’t want to waste his time.

I explained about my blog and my project. I told him that he was my first subject. I asked him his name.

“My name is Jack.” And we talked a little about his hat. I told him if he had been a fan of that “other” Alabama team, I probably wouldn’t have stopped him. We both laughed and agreed. We made small talk, as we walked toward the door. As we approached the door, I told him thank you for letting me take his picture and it was a pleasure meeting him. I said, “my name is Tina.”

He turned to me and said, “my sisters name was Tina, but she died.” I stopped and told him I am sorry. He continued by saying she died very young, so it had been long time ago. And he followed by saying he always liked my name. I advised him that the name Tina was too much to live up to because of Gilligan’s Island and Tina Louise. She was so high maintenance and I always felt I was more like a Mary Ann. We both laughed.

He walked to the right and I walked to the left. I got into my car and he disappeared into the rain. As I started my car, there were so many thoughts that raced through my mind. I should have stopped and just talked to Jack a little longer. There is so much I wanted to know about him. I sensed the feeling he wanted to chat more, and I just didn’t take enough time to learn more about my perfect stranger.

While editing his picture, so many questions are left unknown. I am not sure about Jack’s journey or story. I just know as I’m posting his portrait, I want to know more. So, as I proceed with this project, it’s not all about the photograph, but it is also about their story, and the journey. #justbenice #onehundredstrangers #learnmore

Wait for it………

Photography is all about the wait.  Waiting on the perfect sunset, sunrise, waterfall, flower, landscape, celebratory event, season, lighting, smile.

“This is what I like about photographs.  They’re proof once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect”. – Jodi Picoult

I am an amateur photographer that has been learning and practicing just over a couple of years.  I, too, am all about the waiting for that perfect opportunity.  I practice as much as possible.  I participate in challenges whether they are weekly or daily Instagram challenges or post the occasional decent shot on Facebook.   I started thinking about long-term challenges but the thought of a 365-day Photography Challenge or even, a 52-week Photography Challenge seemed time consuming or demanding.  I wanted to develop a style, a brand, a look.

Nine months ago, I was looking at Flickr and a gentleman posted a portrait of a local boat and bait shop owner.  In his description, he listed several things that he learned from his conversation with the man in the portrait.  He titled the image, 100 Strangers.  Wow, 100 strangers?  That should not be that hard.  I have approximately 156 days left in 2017.  I should be able to reach the goal of photographing 100 strangers.  So, I waited until I had the perfect stranger.

Now we are approximately two months into 2018 and I have photographed 4 strangers.  Not an easy task.  These 4 strangers have made such a huge impact on my life, whether they know it or not.  I can remember their names, what they were wearing, their reaction to being asked to photograph them, what we talked about, and what I wished we had talked about.

When I talk about my onehundredstrangers, they become a part of me.  A part of my journey, my story.   I hope you follow along as I post my strangers.  I will take you along with me, as I listen and find out more about their journey, their story.   It is time to #justbenice.

– tina