intrusion

 

Sometimes an image will present itself during the course of a client session that feels like it belongs solely to me. Somehow, it’s personal. Most often these are not at all “showy” sorts of photographs: no grand message implied, no spectacular display of photographic prowess or amazing light quality. The image very likely may not even be a contender on a clients must-purchase list. These subtle images speak in whispers but can be most powerful to those needing to hear what is being said.

She was part of a family session where the focus wasn’t on solo images of her at all. I typically try to get a few individual shots nonetheless, with hopes that there might be a worthy one or two to be included in the proofbook. As we began to talk, I immediately wished for more time alone with her…..she exuded unusual wisdom and insight for a five year old. I liked her very much.

To be honest, I can’t recall exactly what transpired in the moments preceding this shot. But I had gone to change batteries in a camera, and when I returned she appeared to be fully in her own world, looking towards the ground but I could tell not seeing it. I called her name and she looked toward me. When I saw her expression, I closed my eyes, and pressed the shutter release. Everything about the way she looked at me in that moment resonated somewhere deep inside, and each time I view this image I feel it again. I never saw that expression on her face at any other point of the entire session with her family, although I looked hard for it.

In the instant I had called her name I was an intruder on what had been a place of repose spent inside her own head. I know this feeling well, and can relate to how the outside world is forever vying for one’s attention. It’s not easy to be an introspective sort of person who requires more interior time than is considered generally acceptable. But it isn’t merely annoyance at the intrusion that I recognize in her face here……what I mostly see is the great peace, self-assuredness, and strength that nourished her in this quiet place. She looked up at me not as the rather timid child I’d seen prior to this moment, but renewed, and undaunted by anything I might ask of her.

I had witnessed her transformation, knew exactly where it came from, and I became fearless, too.

 

~Cynthia