I had a really interesting conversation with T’s chiropractor last week. We were talking about energy, the kind that’s in people, and how it can heal. I know how that sounds, but I’m a big believer in energy: good and bad. Aside from the new-age, bullshitty connotations that phrase “energy” brings, I think it’s safe to say that most of us believe in its power: whether you assign that power to a higher being (like, God?) or just to us lowly mortals.
T’s doctor said something that really sparked my imagination: He said, “people come up to you and say, ‘how are you doing?’ when they should be asking, ‘how are you being?’ We’re not human doings, he continued, “we’re human beings.”
I think there’s a lot to be said for just being. Being in the moment, for example; being in your own space, being present, in the here and in the now.
I thought, “wow, that’s the perfect way to phrase this last blog post about my project, I am the Fourth (with Long Beach’s The Village, a program of Mental Health America).
I hope this project has inspired you; I hope it’s lightened your heart, broadened your awareness, lifted you to another sense of being. I hope it’s removed that mindset of “uh-oh, that person coming toward us looks crazy, let’s cross the street.”
To the photographers I know: I hope this project has lit a fire in your brain (and under your ass) to do something locally for the people of your town. Give them a piece of you, and you will receive it back tenfold.
To the families who don’t understand what your their & daughters and husbands & wives are going through and are losing patience: I hope this gives you a glimpse into what they’re fighting. I hope this help you draw you nearer instead of the Pushing Away.
The those in government who want to continually slash the budgets of agencies whose sole purpose is to get these people back on their feet and into society: They, we, I, am part of your community. I can be a drain or an asset, but it’s up to you and the care you give me.
Lastly, to those of you suffering from something you don’t know the name of: I hope this project has given you even the tiniest bit of courage to seek out help; talk to others, talk to me if you need to. Get the help you need and deserve.
I didn’t want to ramble on with this last post, so let’s get to the good stuff.
[Now, a short footnote: You know that I'm about the humanity inside people, not necessarily the "pretty" on the outside. I'm about the funny expressions, the little faces we all make, the photos that some people might call "outtakes." To me, a photo that shows someone with their guard down, that shows even a moment of their true self is far more precious than a "nice" picture of someone smiling for my camera.]
Without further ado, here are my favorite portraits of humans, being.
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This year has been about changes for my work; like, lots of them and in a very basic way.
I’m no longer doing big weddings, which I’ve talked about a few times here, so that’s no surprise. I’m also concentrating more on personal projects (like my recent portrait sessions at The Village), volunteer (see same), and portraiture. Portraits are my first love, but I’m beginning to wonder if I should call them something different (you’ll see why: keep reading).
Anyway, I’ve received several emails recently asking if I photograph kids. I never used to; in fact, I just realized yesterday that I had only one or two kids in my 2-Legged gallery here on the site (I’ve since fixed that, by the way). So when people bring that up, I usually point them to one particular photo. This, to me, is a perfect portrait of that brother & sister. And the mom agreed; it was her favorite, even above the “nicer” photos, because that photo was taken at a moment that happens everyday in that mother’s house.
As you can imagine, I took a ton of photos of my kid as she was growing up, and my favorites by far are not the ones where she’s sitting nice and smiling. They’re the ones where she’s ignoring me, off doing her own thing, or having a meltdown, or, actually, the best is the one where she’s puking onto her father’s lap. My favorite, ever, photo of myself was taken the day my brother got a new bike for his First Communion. I’m just at the edge of the frame, crying my eyes out because I didn’t get one too.
There is something to be said for having “nice” photos, and there are some great photographers who do that style just exquisitely. If that’s what you’re into, I can point you to some superstars (if you’re in Michigan, you must go to Melissa, at A Girl in Love Photography) because nobody does that style better than M.
Now me, I specialize in the messier side of life. And here’s why: these photos remind me to just go with it. Don’t sweat the small stuff. That seems obvious to a lot of moms (or so they’d claim), but when you’re in the thick of it, it’s very, very easy to forget. Looking back someday on these photos of Em smacking her big brother is going to bring a tear to Eva’s eyes, because that’s who those kids are! Man, I just can’t describe how thrilling it is for me to get an opportunity to get someone as they truly are. Kids are just naturally moreso because they haven’t learned those filters yet; they haven’t learned how to “play nice” and “keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” Kids just are. Period.
I love love love these kids and had such a blast shooting them. Em didn’t trust me at all. I mean, why should she? She can decide that for herself, thank you, and it wasn’t actually till we met again and I made her some tin foil jewelry that we really bonded. And Ashton…Ashton blows my mind. In the little time I spent with him, I can already see the amazing man he’s going to grow to be. It’s in the way he treats his mother and his sister. Especially his sister.
So this is the long answer to the short question “do you shoot kids?”
I do. But consider yourself forewarned. This is likely what you’ll come away with.
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That’s the title of this blog post for those of you who may be new to this site.
For those of you who already know me, it’s:
Man, That Was Fucking Amazing!
See the benefit of knowing me?
Ok, so, here’s an update. Today was the last day of my project, I Am the Fourth, that I did for the members of The Village (a program of Mental Health America). Today is the day I got to deliver the prints. Of course I have to blog about this, but really, I was thinking on the drive home, “what am I going to say?”
To say it was amazing is insufficient at best (“lame” is more like it). I mean, I’m sitting here with the a horror movie on, the sound off, and my 70s mix playing on my computer (and yes, Bee Gees and The Captain & Tenille are in that mix), and I’m trying to put into words this feeling I have without sounding trite or sappy or stupid and I don’t know if there’s even a way for me to verbalize it. That’s a big deal. The list of “Things That Make Susan Speechless, For Real” has so far, in all of 51 years, accumulated only one permanent resident: GW Bush.
I’m not a people person, at least, I’ve never thought of myself as one. I’m not mushy. When strangers hug me, I don’t hug back. I have been known (truly, this is true) to make little children cry just by saying “hi” to them in the store. We have a saying in my family: “Susan’s not a people person; she’s a dead people person.” (That’s a nod to my preference to stay home and watch horror movies than go out and, you know, socialize.)
Today, I am humbled. I feel blessed by the Universe. I feel that I did something that was more than taking a picture and giving someone a print. I feel that I became a better person today. Not because I did something for someone else, but because a bunch of people did something for me. They elevated me. They helped me rise above myself and become a better person. Hang in here with me for a few, because I always write these posts in a stream of consciousness and I may be approaching an epiphany.
I mean, I get mad when I have to reset my Roku. A streaming movie that skips can, and has, ruined my evening. But today I gave a woman a framed photo of herself, and she hugged me. And as she walked away, she said, “I’ve never had a photo of myself.”
Yeah.
I think that sums up really well what I’m feeling today. And yeah, today, I hugged back.
Photo gallery to come. Not today though; today I’m going to spend the day counting my blessings, starting with the two who are at my feet, begging for a slice of orange.
These photos are a gift that I was given today: Hilary, that sneaky woman over at The Village, made copies of my blog and had everyone whose portrait I took secretly write a thank-you to me as they were signing their model releases. I had no idea she did this, and I’ve read only a few of the pages so far, but I’m going to savor them all today. For many days, and years, to come.
So. May is Mental Health Month, a tradition started in 1949 by Mental Health America, with the idea of increasing awareness of mental health and helping those who suffer from it. Chances are, you know someone whose life has been touched by mental health; maybe it’s even you. Maybe you’re afraid to talk about it, or tell anyone. Maybe that’s the reason you don’t get help for yourself.
But you know me, right? You’ve seen me around here for years on Flickr, Facebook, my blog, and generally all over the sites you’re not supposed to cruise while you’re at work. (But not the porn sites; I’m not there so don’t go looking for me.)
I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) almost fifteen years ago, but I suffered for it for years without knowing what it was–that it was even “different” than how anyone else felt–and cheated myself out of a lot of things because I didn’t get help. I had my first panic attack at 21, and like I said, I didn’t know what it was but I know it scared the shit out of me. I had a spate of attacks that year, then it was dormant till I was about 28. Then it came back big time, and by that time my daughter was in grade school and my then-husband didn’t understand what I was going through at.all. Neither did my family. It was diminished. There was talk of “sending [me] away,” which I can tell you right now made me want to take everything I’d said back. It made me never want to talk about it again.
I didn’t want to be alone with the kids (mine, or my stepdaughter). I didn’t want to go to parties, I didn’t want to drive, I didn’t want to leave the house. My mom did my grocery shopping for several weeks before I finally did see a doctor. Dr. Doctor was his name. Seriously.
After he told me what he thought my problem was, I looked him straight in the eye and asked him, very genuinely, “Do you know anything about mental health?” My experience with that doctor didn’t help me and in many ways it made me worse. But again, it lasted only a few months and then was dormant again.
And on I lived.
Like I said, almost 15 years ago (and after the death of my most-beloved dog, Stiggy), I had some sort of breakdown that I thought was depression. After speaking with my therapist, who sent me to a psychiatrist, I was told that I would need to get onto meds immediately, and I would probably be on them for the rest of my life.
I was with Mr. Susan, whom I was dating at the time, in my car when I got that news. I pulled over and cried and cried. I thought I was “damaged.” I thought Mr. Susan should leave me. I wasn’t like anyone else. I was different. I wasn’t normal.
Wow.
It took a lot of years to accept the fact that I was taking meds in the first place, let alone that I would have to keep taking them. Luckily, I had an amazing support system: Mr. Susan, who never once made me feel less of anything for taking my meds, and my daughter (who I didn’t even tell for months because I was afraid of the way she would see me), and they continue to support me.
So you know I’ve been working with The Village (a program of Mental Health America) here in Long Beach; giving the members family portraits through your amazingly generous donations. I took portraits over a 2-day period of members and of staff, and I’m not going to be specific when I start showing the photos. Some people didn’t want their photos shared, and that’s ok. Most did, they were eager to tell their stories in the hope of helping someone else. Doesn’t that just blow your mind?
It does mine.
The framed prints arrive here tomorrow, and I’ve set a date to deliver them next week. Honestly, I can’t wait. I’m so excited to see everyone again; to see how happy they’re going to be when they get their prints (for some, the first time they’ve had their photo taken all together). Something like a photo, that I take for granted every time I click the shutter, is so precious and rare to them. It’s taught me a lot about not taking things for granted: my meds, my friends, my family, and people who need or want my help.
So I thought it would be a good idea to kick-off Mental Health Month with the story of someone you know: me. And, of course, a few photos from the project I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing some of these, but believe me, I have lots more, and a huge variety, to show you.
Oh, and the title of this post: it’s the mission for MHA’s 2012 Mental Health Month. See, it’s estimated that one of four American adults suffer from a diagnosable, treatable mental health disorder. I don’t know how many get the help they need, but I have a feeling it’s not bundles.
If you’ve been watching my Facebook posts, and my blog posts, about my project and about this issue in general, go do something for your local branch of MHA. Take their pictures; teach them to take pictures, or draw, or write stories or poems. Or just go talk to them. Listen to them. Volunteer.
And if this all applies to you too and you’re not getting the help you need, ask for it. You have at least one person who is willing to listen to you, even if you’re all alone.
You have me. I take meds, and I understand.
Enjoy the photos. More to come.
Way before I was shooting clients at Union Station in downtown LA, I was shooting there for fun. Not only gorgeous, but it’s the only landmark building I can think of off the top of my head that is so photographer-friendly. They don’t just let you shoot there, they’re super nice about it; I’m even able to bring in my tripod (which is usually a dead giveaway to cops & security that you’re a professional photographer and hence, should be evicted from the premises immediately).
Andrea & Josh are getting married this year at The Oviatt Pethouse, a magnicifent location that’s all about vintage and retro. [Think '30s glamour; white satin and hardwood vanities.] Their wedding is going with the vintage theme, and before we even talked it over, we all knew that their engagement session had to happen at Union Station. I mean, hello? Pot, meet Kettle!
I love love love when I get to shoot a couple who’s a bit offbeat. Not into the “standing in the field holding a balloon” thing (seriously, when are we going to stop doing that?), we went for a sort of “movie stars on a getaway” theme. It was so awesome. I created and printed out two vintage looking ticket holders and when Andrea used them to shield their faces so she could sneak a kiss to Josh, I knew we were all thinking exactly alike. From her fake fur stole & her matte red lipstick (I’ve heard from an expert that cornstarch is the key to this, in case you were wondering) and Josh’s adorable hat, they both came dressed perfectly in character. Eeep! Perfection happens.
We were able to work really freely, without hassle, and spend our time moving from location to location within the station. That’s actually the hardest part of shooting there; deciding exactly what part of the gorgeousness you want to focus on. There’s so much eye candy, it’s kind of like being a kid in a candy store…with your mom’s wallet! The only downside to shooting there (and truly, there is only one), it’s that the station can get quite crowded. Other people are fine in the shot, but wearing Hello Kitty backpacks and Dodger t-shirts…well, that can sort of kill the mood in my photos, you know? That’s why I make people stand perfectly still so we get what looks like ghosts moving past them (hmmm…I’ve heard stories of the station being haunted; maybe not all the wisps you see here are taking the Blue Line).
Shooting the bride & groom in their formal wear for the wedding is going to be beyond over the top; just as their e-session went. Those of you who know me even a little know that I’m about as far from glamorous as you can get, but these two totally have enough to spare. I’ll be borrowing some for that evening.
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by susan sabo
+ - 4 comments
Cindy - This warms my heart Susan. I recently moved, my neighborhood (West End, Over-the-Rhine Cincinnati) has it’s share of homeless and other folks that struggle daily. On our walks, I say hi and try not to frighten them with my really scary golden retriever
I’ve always believed that some of us are put on this planet stronger to make sure to help those that can’t help themselves. And those two groups can easily interchange from time to time in life. at any given moment. Cheers to you. This is awesome work.
vicky - These are all completely wonderful, I love them!
Bobbimarie (Maria) - I think this was a great idea & a wonderful way to show our community, city, state, etc who were are & what we are made of.
Humananity is an obligation. We all must get involved in being human to each other by showing care & concern. All lives are comparatively a roller coaster but if u can help make that person’s low times higher, don’t be afraid to lift them up, even with just a smile or a kind word.
Random kindness is an obligation. Giving freely from the heart & not expecting anything in return. My four children give me a warm feeling like that & I try to help out every way I can, even though sometimes I know I am just in the way.
susan sabo - Thanks so much, ladies.
Bobbiemarie, thank YOU for expressing so well one of the points I was trying to make. I think that the “meaning of life” is to help others become better people. That, in turn, makes us better people. It all just goes around and around.