It hasn’t even been a week since my last day in Mississippi and yet I already feel like it was a lifetime ago. It took me this long to even begin to process all that I learned and took from the workshop with David, and I’m still trying to revel in the afterglow. Above all, my week in the Delta was a much needed immersion back into photography. PHOTOGRAPHY. My passion. My craft. My life. My heart. Photography. To take a break from talking business models and pricing guides and lightroom “workflow”to spend a week truly pursuing the craft of photography was one of the most exhilarating and affirming moments of my so-called “career”. I was photographing with 19 other seriously incredible photographers and being critiqued by them daily. I was pushed. I was humbled. I was insanely inspired. I can’t say that I’m a better photographer since the workshop. But I can say that I have a greater sense of confidence in my voice and in the images that I make and will continue to make in my normal day to day life. To be affirmed by true documentary photographers and artists that I don’t have to use pocket wizards to make a great image, or that things don’t have to be tack sharp or “color corrected” to be compelling, was revolutionary. Simply put, after a serious “identity” crisis, I have come to realize that I need to let go, have fun and make images again.
The workshop was supposed to be a technical lighting workshop. I signed up 1/2 for this reason, and 1/2 for the fact that I would be in the presence of David Alan Harvey with the blues as a backdrop. I expected to spend a lot of time learning to light dark, seedy juke joints at night so that I might take this knowledge and apply it to my weddings and/or portrait sessions. You see, as as wedding photographer who has spent way too much time looking at other wedding photographer’s work, I see a lot of trends–one of these being fancy lighting techniques which involve dragging light and or firing three or four flashes from a remote to make beautiful dancing shots or wedding party portraits. Ugh. Not my thing. I’m not saying that these type of images aren’t beautiful. They certainly are–and I thought I needed to use these techniques in my own work to make my work stronger–which was part of the appeal of this workshop. But alas, there was none of this in the workshop. We maybe spent 2 hours talking lighting and it was basic pop up flash, on camera strobe and something involving a cord and my extended arm. There was no fashion techniques or ways to make a person’s skin “glow”. However, I believe what I did learn about lighting and technique was far more powerful and caters to my style far more than a “one light workshop”ever could. Bottom line for me: I need to minimize my equipment, blend in, have fun and shoot organically. I don’t have time to set up 3 lights when shooting the streets or documenting an emotional moment at a wedding, for that matter. I would miss the moment in an attempt to make something that is already perfect, a little bit “fancier”. While I am fairly comfortable with a pop up and/or on camera strobe, what I wasn’t comfortable with was making images that might not be perfect, technically speaking. But then again–I would never call my work that. I would call it honest. And I’m comfortable with that now.
The other purpose of the workshop was to make a book. Not just any book make by My Publisher or Blurb, but a book promoted by David on www.burn.org and one that will hopefully be talked about in the photographic community. The pressure was on. We were supposed to go out on our own and interpret the Delta through our own essay or style. There of course is the Blues which is the first thing that comes to mind about the Delta, but I was flat out tired of photographing musicians on stage next to 10 other photographers—I get enough of that at home. So I explored. I never really found an essay—I think one needs a couple of weeks just to see what’s out there and establish relationships before she can delve into an essay defining a region of such rich history. But I drove from town to town, hit up bars, knocked on people’s doors and really got out of my comfort zone. After photographing Bruno’s I can truly say that there aren’t a lot of situations that I am scared to approach anymore and that in and of itself is priceless. I feel like I can approach strangers and listen to their stories and empathize with them. I feel connected to people through my art again. And this is an amazing feeling. I want to hold on to it and keep plugging along at my personal work and projects…
So without further ado, here are a few more honest, humble images from an incredible week spent in the Mississippi Delta.

One of the most frustrating things about a workshop is the fact that everybody is shooting the same thing–or even the same small town. I felt like we were descending upon these poor people of Clarksdale like paparazzi. So I left the area and headed to another town altogether. I had heard about this place called Bruno’s and that it was one of the only places that most people don’t feel comfortable photographing in because it’s full of “sketchy” people. So I grew a pair (so to speak), picked up a fifth of Hennessy and headed to Bruno’s with my hippie spirit and sense of confidence. The people hanging around Bruno’s weren’t very accepting of me at first, and making photos of them was out of the question, but after a few rounds of pool, some swills of Hennessy and a few gringo picks on the jukebox, I had made some new friends who were more than willing to have their photos taken. My afternoon at Bruno’s was actually one of the best experiences that I’ve had since I’ve been here. There is a very strong sense of segregation down here that I wanted to explore. I wanted to know if I would be accepted if I were just able to hang–no politically correct bullshit, just straight talk and a good amount of respect and empathy. It was pretty incredible how much I fit in, actually. I went to Walmart yesterday to make some prints of this shoot and think I will drop then off at Bruno’s tomorrow and say farewell to my “sketchy” new friends.

What a freaking roller coaster ride this workshop has been. I don’t know if I’m deflated or inspired–both, I think. I don’t know if I’m a wedding photographer (by eye) or a Nan Goldin. But herein lies the issue. I am both–I hope. And I want to somehow learn to bring these elements together. Not for weddings, not for street photography, but as my “style”– a complete package of the yummy emotion of a sentimental photographer and the edge of one who hangs out with junkies. Is this possible? It’s who I am (sans the junkies). David is an incredible encouragement. He knows me well enough already after a few nights of partying to know that I have it in me to really get in the grittier scenes and still capture the compassion–and yet he keeps saying “almost there, Julie. Almost there, but not quite.” I’m frustrated and scared that I’ll never fully transcend where I’m at, but it’s all good. We are only 3 days in, and to be honest it’s just completely refreshing to be focusing on my work and my style rather than booking weddings. So I’ll be posting some “almost there” images and hopefully I will see this voice that I crave start emerging as the week progresses. This is my ultimate goal—and of course a handful of bad-ass images….

I’m on my way to Mississippi to take a workshop and learn alongside the David Alan Harvey–the man who has been an inspiration since I was 16 years-old. And I’m driving there. And listening to really good music. And having a really good time…

It’s been exactly 10 years since I was last in Italy. I was 22—naïve, fresh faced and brave enough to take off by myself to work in Italy for Legambiente which is the Italian equivalent to Green Peace. I was the only American working in the organization, with no Italian under my belt, and a knack for getting lost. I arrived in Rome, alone after a 22 hour travel stint and wandered my way around the city with a backpack and a travel guide. One of the best moments of my life was my first night in Rome. After a long and delirious nap and an ice cold coke, I took a cap to the Vatican City at sunset to catch the evening mass. I had never been out of the country before, mind you and I was completely overwhelmed with what I was experiencing. It was better than I could have ever imagined and I was immediately swept off my feet. Italy was my first love—my first experience with travel. I grabbed a hot dog and Heineken bomber and sat on a wall perched above St. Peters cathedral with a symphony playing in a park right behind me. An artisan fair lined the pedestrian streets surrounding the Vatican, adorned with antique books, charcoal drawings, handmade jewelry and leather…. Ahhh the smell of leather here is bar none.
So, here I am 10 years later searching for that romance I experienced 10 years ago. The travel bug is like an adrenaline junkie’s search for adventure… but for travelers, it’s a lust for that “feeling” of being alive in another country—seeing completely new architecture, different light, different people and cultures, new smells and trendy fashion, and being taken by it all. It’s incredible and only understood by those who have experienced it, and actually have the “lust”. It is an addition. Although I know I will never experience Italy again with virgin eyes as I did 10 years ago, today is my first day in Florence and I’m certainly taken. The smells that are getting me already–waffles and gelato, the smell of car exhaust that is somehow nostalgic, and fresh garlic. I can hear the church bells ring every hour from my hotel room just down the street from the Duomo and it’s cool enough in the evening for a sweater, but hot enough to really enjoy a cold Birre Rossa. I’m in heaven. And while I go to Paris every year to find my heart and “re-stock the pond”, this trip to Italy is feeling more about gratitude. I’m not yet exhausted from the busy summer season that I call my “harvest”, and I’m still feeling completely invigorated by every thing I see. I’m grateful and pinching myself… can this really be my life? How could I ever complain about anything when I seem to have it all… I’m blessed.
My trip 10 years ago was a life changing gift from God. I found my passion and independence and came home 2 months later believing in myself in a new way. I made all sorts of positive changes in my life and understood for the first time that one can’t wait for life to happen. One has to find it and live it fearlessly. I have a feeling that this trip is going to be just as monumental as my last visit…. It’s Italy, after all and there are all things romantic beckoning me to live these 9 days to my fullest and to bring home a brighter inner-light.

I’m finally in Paris again–my home away from home.  It feels so wonderful to be here—the air, the smell, the sounds, the shopping, the walking, the wine… I could on and on, and I will, but I forgot my card reader at home  so until I get a new one this photo will have to suffice.  It is a photo taken from my iphone of my private terrace overlooking the rooftops of the 1st arr.  Nuf said—life is good.

Every year around mid-January, excitement stirs when I start to see the stock show parking signs on I-25.  I don’t know what it is about this annual event,  but I love it!    The National Western Stock show is a smorgasbord of “Americana”.  There is everything to be found at here, from  cowboy boots to funnel cakes. And of course there are all the adorable animals.   But for me it’s the people watching that I love the most, and this year I brought my camera.   So if you’re like Jesse, and have an allergy attack just nearing the stables, or  if you just can’t handle the skirt-chasing, Coors drinking cowboy culture, then  hopefully you can live vicariously through these images and take a trip down a genre of true Americana….

I couldn’t leave Paris without doing a little night shooting in Pigalle, although it took some guts to go out there at night with my 70-200mm and photograph the sex district of Paris (Pigalle by the way, means pig alley)—serious guts. So, I took along some friends and we “created” Pigalle through my eyes with a few set up shots and some models ( thanks to Cayetana, and Cayetan).

Prostitution is legal in France and Pigalle is the red light district adorned with sex shops, strip clubs and “champagne bars” where a glass of champagne –depending on the type, is actually a sexual act. It’s colorful, intimidating and wonderful all at once, if you can get stomach the prostitutes and pimp’s constant persuasion to get you to come into their clubs. Nan Goldin must love this place. I thought of her during the entire shoot. Sorry there aren’t more images here, but like I said I was pretty nervous shooting, and standing still and shooting with my telephoto felt overly conspicuous and, well rude. This will be something I’ll have to work on if I want to continue shooting the underbellies of society. Because this little collection truly is, a pathetic depiction of Pigalle….

These images should be pretty easy on the eye…. they are nothing more than tourist photos, but hopefully beautiful tourist photos none the less.  One of my favorite things to do in Paris is the barge tour down the Seine.  It’s super cliche, I know but I can’t do it enough!  I always bring a bottle of wine in my purse and nurse it while I look out at this splendid city—wind on my face or at my back, it doesn’t make difference—I get so happy! The best time to do this is at night–because Paris seriously is a city that should be seen by night.  Enjoy the tour!

I think Jesse was in awe…..

The weather is unpredictable in Paris.  It was totally beautiful out, and then the clouds just opened up and starting pouring….

and pouring!

this is the color of the sky right after it rains…. I love it here!

Where do I begin with this one?…. All I can say is that this may be the first day I have felt grounded in months—months! I’m always busy in the summer with weddings and portraits—it’s the “beef” of my work year. But for some reason, this year things seemed to spill over and I got so caught up and swamped in work that I lost a sense of self. I stopped taking care of myself and as for my marriage —well, let’s just say it suffered. Jesse must have been terrified to be around me as I was volatile as anything—my emotions were over the top—be it happy, mad, sad, etc, etc… I truly was “bat shit crazy” (pardon my French)

This sabbatical in Paris had to be about me getting alone to wrap my head around what happened to me and why all of a sudden, my life had almost fallen apart at the seams. I had to miss my life to fall in love with it again. And that is exactly what is happening. Having Jesse out here for 10 days is a miracle in and of itself—he’s not much on traveling and has never been to Europe before. Jesse is the practical “rock” in our relationship (I’m the crazy, artist wife who can’t sit still and needs constant adventure). I guess it took me having a meltdown for Jesse to get on a plane and taste this world with me. But if this craziness is what it took for my husband to come out and live this dream with me, then it was all worth it! BTW: Jesse is loving it out here and I always thought he would!!!

These images aren’t typical of what I’ve been shooting out here but I hope they evoke the sense of love and pure joy that is radiating from both Jesse and I as we are together, living in the present and once again sharing life.

I love these next two images of Jesse trying to startle and scare the pigeons… and then revealing an evil little grin afterwards!

I love markets—be it Fisherman’s wharf in San Fransisco, or Pike’s Market in Seattle. But can I just tell you how amazing the markets are in France?! The cheese, the eggs, the fresh produce, the honey, the antiques, and did I mention the cheese? I was in photographic heaven…. I’ve always loved photographing in markets because of the people, of course—you get a little of everybody, but I also love all the vibrant colors. The market in Dijon was a schmorgesbord of all of these variables….. enjoy!

Actually, I have no idea what “burgundy” is in the liquor stores at home…. It might just be a table red, or cooking wine, because the region of Burgundy only produces two grapes—Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Every true Burgundy wine is made from these two grapes and is 100% pure. I’m not a chardonnay girl, but I loved the Pinot Noir wines in this region—very different than a California Pinot Noir– quite earthy, like I like them.

We lucked out because it was only Audrey and I, and the guide on the tour. The guide’s name was Nicolas, and he seriously kept his head set on the entire trip, while he talked—even though the tour was in a van, and Audrey and I were in the seat behind him. I got a kick out of this—especially on the way back after I had tasted 8 glasses of wine (small glasses, of course). The tour itself was disappointing (aside from the fact that it was pouring rain) in that it cost about $80, and we drove through all these amazing vineyards and tiny little medieval villages, only to arrive at a commercial wine cellar where they tried to sell us more. I asked the driver if he wouldn’t mind, seeing as it was only the three of us, stopping the car so I could do some photographing. Apparently, for insurance reasons they could not do that. So, I was a caged bird in the backseat of a van with all this beauty buzzing by me. Seriously—these villages were straight out of the film, “Chocolat” with Johnny Depp.

Unfortunately, all of the photos that you see here (aside from the images taken in the cellar) were taken from inside the van. Like I said in my last post, the next time I visit France I plan to rent a car and tour this area on my own—with a designated driver!

That’s right….home to “Dijon mustard” which might I say, is quite different here—very strong and wonderful! I brought home about 6 varieties and have been making everything with mustard—-forget Nutella—I’ve been dipping my bread in Dijon. Last night I even made risotto, and instead of salting it, I just stirred in some mustard. I know it sounds gross, but I’ve adapted some strange eating habits here. (I’m still really enjoying the canned peas)!

Anyhow my friend Audrey and I decided to take the train down to wine country. Dijon is in Burgundy, and I thought I might like to drink some burgundy in Burgundy (I’ll post some of those images later)! The town was a lot bigger than I thought it would be, but nice. My only regret is that we didn’t rent a car and drive to some of the smaller medieval villages—as these were how I imagined this area, and Dijon to be. I promised myself I would come back and do just that. None the less, I had a good time soaking up the town’s energy—the people in Dijon are super friendly—especially compared to Parisians!

Meet my friend, Audrey. She lives in Paris and works for Air France, so her schedule is free a lot of the time to travel. I was excited to have company, and she’s also a photographer, http://www.oneandonlyparisphotography.com/ so I didn’t feel so bad all those times I stopped to take a hundred photos, or had to go back to the same spot at a different time of day for better light—she empathized!

Who’d have thought? I wasn’t really planning on photographing the Eiffel tower in all her glory until I had the timing, lighting, mood, etc, right. However, I was at Trocadero yesterday and simply had to send a couple of gloating email images to my friends back home. It wasn’t until I got home last night and really looked at the images, that I realized how much I love them. I love that they are grainy, moody, and totally made with no thought at all. Sometimes this is the best way to shoot–completely intuitively–without too much thought–technically and even compositionally.

If I visited an exhibit for an hour for every hour that I were here (1008 hours), I would not even come close to seeing all there is to see art wise in this amazing city! There simply isn’t enough time. However, I am literally around the corner from The Henri Cartier-Bresson foundation. Lucky me! The current exhibit is a showing of street photography documenting the “American Dream in the 30s and 40s” by the man himself and his inspiration, Walker Evans. I don’t know if you know this, but Henri Cartier-Bresson is my biggest influence and in the top five of my all time favorite photographers. He actually coined the phrase the “decisive moment’. He also said: “In photography, the smallest thing can be a great subject. The little, human detail can become a Leitmotiv.” and “We photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth can make them come back again. We cannot develop and print a memory.“ He was obviously a brilliant man of deep pathos, and I love about everything he says in relation to the craft of photography, but this last quote is probably my favorite and the most freeing from the confinements of perceived perfection: ” The photograph itself doesn’t interest me. I want only to capture a minute part of reality.” The images that I made today are a tribute to this quote and to getting back to the soul of my work—which has always been and always will be, about documenting and seizing time and the human condition—I have always been a street photographer at heart.

I love the rain—really…. I don’t think I could ever get too much of it. I’m one of those people who could easily live in the Northwest and soak it all up. A day of sunshine every now and then would be great, of course but there is something so quite and calming about the rain and it seems to allow one to move a little slower, sleep in a little later, bundle up a little more, and take a day to themselves. That is what this entire trip is for me, so the rain on Tuesday was just the icing on the cake.

I lost my passport—not sure where, but I’m thinking I must have dropped it in the airport or in the cab to my flat. So Tuesday, I went to the American Embassy to fill out paper work to get a new one. To make a long story short, my passport was turned in (by some angel) and I simply walked out of the place unscathed. The American Embassy is in the 1st arr of Paris—one of my favorites! It’s the same arrondissement where the Louvre and Jardin des Tuileries is—probably the most toured and famous area in Paris. So, because it was raining, and I was hungry, and the park was right there, I went to a little Italian restaurant right in the middle of the park for a cafe au lait, some risotto and of course, a glass of wine. It was a splurge, to say the least, but how often does one get a restaurant like that to herself in the middle of a deserted park on a rainy afteroon in Paris? It was heaven! I sat there, inside and cozy and looked out at the empty park. Then I walked it in the rain and played a little child’s game with myself. Because this park is so famous and toured, I was afraid of creating images that were cliche or had been done a thousand times before…. (even by me). But then I tried to get in my heart a little, and ask myself, what do I love about this day? What do I love about this park? What do I see–thus the title of this post. Yes, Julie. But what do you see? Even if it’s cliche—or even if it’s what other people are seeing too…. So I walked around for a couple hours talking to myself like a child, “I see the rain on the leaves”. “I see empty chairs”, etc, etc. En francais. These are the images that I “saw”, and that left me feeling how the rain makes me feel—like I can move a little slower and just breathe….

Je vois la belle consolation

Je vois l’éternité

Je vois le majestueux

Je vois les cycles de vie

Je vois lonliness

Je vois l’espace

Je vois la liberté absolue

Je vois le confort

Je vois la nostalgie

quelquefois, je vois la chose peu évidemment

Je me vois

Je vois l’harmonie et la balance

Je vois le confort amoureux

Je vois la couleur

Je vois la vie que je veux

Yesterday was, well…. it was another day here. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Maybe still a little jet lagged, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night for a few hours and just staring up at the ceiling in my tiny little flat in what feels like another universe. Of course all the things that I was supposed to finish up work wise, before I left come screaming at me like a train, and then I think about Jesse, or my brother Rob….

But that’s aside the point. The point, is that I slept until noon on Sunday, and then wandered over to get a much needed coffee at a little cafe across from Gare Montparnasse. I was sitting in the shade, and could seriously smell urine and very dirty people around me (they don’t call in Urine town for nothing) Needless to say,I was feeling pretty depressed. I journaled for a bit, and then decided that I needed to get out of the shade, away from the transients, and into the sun. I planned to walk to the Luxembourg Gardens and do some shooting. Along with not getting much sleep, I am also still very disoriented here (but getting better each day). I thought I knew exactly how to get to the gardens because I get quite cocky when it comes to traveling, but I got lost…. (of course) and ended up at Cimetière de Montparnasse. (No, it is not where Jim Morrison is buried).

Here’s the redemtive beauty of my day….. Once I lost myself in the moment and started to really look at the graves and the grave tombs at Cimetière de Monparnasse, and completely forgot about the burden to make photographs and the smell of urine, my alpha state kicked in and suddenly I was seeing things in a new light. I started to notice all the old door knobs on the grave tombs, and without thinking twice, got lost in a world of creating images based on the detail of this old place. It was invigorating and also exciting. Who would have thought? Me making work at a cemetery? (I’m not really into the whole goth, cemetery photography thing).

I also had this really cheesy thought about the whole process of making art—and bear with me, I’ve been alone for a week… I started to think that creating art is like kissing. You obviously have to be passionate about it from the get go, but sometimes it takes a little letting go to really get into the groove of it and let nature take over. Especially when it’s a first kiss or kissing a new lover—It can be awkward at first, but with enough passion, the kissing becomes less about kissing, and more about getting lost in the kiss…. This is how the day felt to me. It was as if I was kissing a new lover—photographing a new subject—Once I let go, the moment was totally unexpected and divine….

So this image isn’t even about being a good photograph. It’s just so romantic! If I die before Jesse, I hope that he engraves my tombstone with an image like this….. ahhhh, L’amour! Maybe it was seeing this tombstone that made me think about kissing!

….and then I discovered the grave-tomb door knobs and their intricacy.

“You need to claim the events of your life to make yourself yours”. Anne-Wilson Schaef

It may seem ironic that I title this series of blogs a “sabbatical”, and am still blogging. However, this will be a different kind of blogging than what I normally do. I will not be taking any shoots or blogging any past weddings or portrait shoots for the next six weeks (unless I shoot something here that I want to blog). I am truly taking six weeks away from my life as I know it, to find my heart and fall in love with photography again. It’s not that I don’t love what I do–or somehow think that wedding and portrait photography isn’t art—it is indeed and I am quite confidant that I am an artist in this “industry”. But I shot close to 40 weddings this season and probably doubled that number in portraits. I’m pretty tired. Please know this— I do love what I do and feel very blessed to be able to make a living as an artist. I love all my clients and I love blogging their sweet stories everyday. However it’s only natural that any extended period or piece of work draws heavily on our artistic wells. Julia Cameron says this, “Overtapping the well, like overfishing the pond, leaves us with diminished resources. We fish in vain for why, ‘just when it was going so well!’ The truth is that work can dry up because it is going so well.” And that pretty much sums it up for me at the moment. I’m out here for six weeks to stock the pond!

I’m staying in what the Parisians call a “Rabbit Cage” in Montparnasse. My flat is no more than 300 square feet–no TV, no bathtub, no back yard or washer and dryer—just the bare basics, and (aside from no bathtub) I’m totally excited with this. It’s currently 1:30 am in Paris and I’m spilling my heart out…. I forgot to eat today, so I found a can of peas in the cupboard at my flat, and and am chasing them down with cheap red wine and cigarettes (it’s Paris)! I’m feeling pretty bat shit crazy, but will say that I am already starting to taste rejuvenation and rest (despite the not eating, smoking and drinking thing).

I plan on blogging pretty intimate snip bits during this little adventure, as well as posting some of my daily images—Please feel free to follow along on this journey with me, and know that after 6 weeks in Paris, I will surely come home ready to conquer the world—As a refreshed and fiercely creative Julie Harris.

These next few images are me warming up—they are images of or around my flat, and an exploration of Monparnasse and the cliche’s that I have held about Paris—-Yes. Cafe life is the life here and I love it! With no itinerary or daily agenda, I find that sitting at a Cafe is a daily ritual for me—two or three times a day, even!