Preparing to be Captured -- Part Two

I owe you an update on my last post of the Old Year, don't I? And I also owe you an apology for not writing hard and heavy about my Fest Season and the months that followed. So much Magick happened, of course, and I think I get overwhelmed then and just don't know where to start....

In any event, in that last post of 2018: two weekends of Fest remaineth, I was nervously preparing to be photographed at some point, I'd just Amazon Prime'd myself a costume dress so I could look like a girl in the pic if I wished, and I was learning that the weekend of the shoot would be the first iffy-weather one of the season.

So I packed layers and costume pieces and choices. I practiced my smile....

Then Saturday dawned COLD. I'd slept in a sleeping bag on my shop floor the night before and I swear when I woke that my bones were ice. I needed layers, so I opted for shapeless 'boy clothes' -- long-sleeved shirt, jerkin, leather vest, wool coat, leggings, boots, the works. I loved the look and I felt confident! But I'll admit: although black is my favorite color, it probably doesn't allow for a great picture.... (Except for that one above: a selfie put through the Prisma app. I love it.)

The day got busy and time passed and I forgot about the possibility of being photographed. And when I did remember, I rather hoped that Mr. Edwards had secretly taken his pic from afar so that I was totally unaware....

Although he insisted that he could make our shoot 'painless', when he did arrive I fell apart inside -- instantly filled with anxiety -- and the brief little session was everything I'd feared.

Stand here.
Turn this way.
Look at me.
Chin down.
Slight smile.
Give me 'coy.'

Ugh; I was my own worst enemy! I brought the anxiety, I brought the awkwardness....

Maybe it's the posing that breaks me? Maybe it's having to look right at the lens? Once finished, he turned the digital camera window to me and said, "See how nice this is?" as he zoomed in on my face. I already had my hands over my eyes. I couldn't look....

What was I so afraid I'd see, anyway? A panicked person trying to hide from the lens? The little girl who always looked so freaky in school pics?

I don't like this about myself. I've been this way FOREVER. Photo Day at school was almost as anxiety-inducing as Vaccination Day, and the resulting snaggle-toothed pics that the teacher would show off (with glee, I swear) in front of the class was proof positive that the camera and I were NOT friends....

Photo taken by and courtesy of Sarah D. Butcher

Not long ago, my Eldest (who takes amazing pics) took some candid shots of my parents together and made one into a large canvas print for them as a Christmas gift. Because she lives so far away she couldn't be there when they unwrapped it. But I was. Mom took one look at that photo and laughed her lungs out. Laughed so hard she cried! And then when she caught her breath again there were comments along the lines of, "Good gawd, what a sight!" and "Imagine having to look at THAT in the mirror every day, haha!"

I was CRUSHED.... Because when I saw that photo it brought tears to my eyes. Suddenly I  wanted to grab it from Mom, rescue the woman in that pic, shelter her from the laughter, and bring her home where I could look at her with love. Like she deserved.

Mom couldn't look at her own face in that photo without cringing and laughing with embarrassment. What was so funny, so cringeworthy about that face? Did mom look at herself and see her mother? And was that so bad?....

These are ALL my face. And that's OK.

I swear to God at the time I did not see myself in that moment. But I do now.... Just recalling it as I type brings to the forefront all the feels and confusion and tangles and knots about my relationship with my face and how I imagine others see it.

And what I'm learning could fill another blog post.

And maybe it will someday....

Mr. Edwards visited my shop on the final Fest weekend. "Well, you're off the hook," he said. "I didn't like any of the pics." Part of me wanted to say, "I told you so," but I didn't. I was secretly relieved, though.

He promised to return that final Sunday for another try but didn't make it out to Fest again before the season ended, and that's OK. Because between now and next season, my face and I have some inner work to do.
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