camp shutter sisters was but a dream

I sit here while my boys nap, my one daylit hour to myself, and wish myself back to Camp Shutter Sisters. I'm obsessively checking the Flickr stream, Instagram*, and Facebook for evidence it wasn't a dream, that I didn't make it all up.



When I got wind of the camp, I set an alarm so I wouldn't miss the chance when tickets went on sale. I knew I needed to attend. I told my husband I would sell my wedding dress to help pay for it. I put both boys in front of the t.v. (which I almost never do) so I could be online when the clock struck. Good thing, too, as it sold out in 15 minutes. Dylan was teeny-tiny when I signed up to go. By his 9th month, it was time. It wasn't easy physically (hello, pump) or emotionally (hello, sobfest) but definitely, it was time.



I'm still struggling with the words to describe what went on at camp. Holly described it as an "epic meeting of kindred spirits" and that comes pretty close. Debra talked about meeting the "photography people in her computer," and I love that too, especially now that I'll be able to hear their real voices in my head narrate their stream of online beauty.

I think my roomie Mae took this one of Holly and I.

I was most looking forward to uninterrupted time to play, think, talk, breathe photography in a way that never, ever happens in my daily life. With two little boys underfoot, I mostly shoot from the hip, without a chance to double check (or even check at all) my settings. There is no such thing as setting up a shot. The minute I get into an editing groove, I hear them wake from their naps. I do post at least one photo every single day but the scarce night time I do spend editing cuts into my time with my husband, my chores, and my sleep.

The camp fairies seemed to have read my mind. The formal sessions started at 9am which meant I had the choice (the choice!) of sleeping in, or of getting up early to wander with my camera in the morning light, of going for a run, of eating a leisurely breakfast, or, all of the above.



Everything about the event seemed similarly thoughtful and generous and welcoming and kind.



We didn't do cheesy icebreakers.
We did make s'mores.
We started our first day together with a silent photo walk.
We listened to beautiful stories told by the most beautiful hearts.
We gave ourself permission.
We didn't judge each other by the size or brand of her equipment.
We did try each others' lenses.
We took countless timer photos.
We saw the world through dreamy lenses (thank you Lensbaby!).
We put our fears - literally - on the shelf.
We didn't edit in solitude, but in the company of peers, drink in hand.
We printed our photos (thank you HP!) and gave them to each other like valentines.



And now I'm watching the same experience unfold again and again through each others' eyes and and I can almost hear the click of shutters and feel the sand between my toes again.



I sit here while my boys sleep, and wish myself back to that place. A place with no diapers to change, or toys to pick up, or tantrums to weather. A place where I had permission to fill my day as I chose, a place where people I admire gave so willingly of their expertise. A place where instead of editing quickly and in solitude against the clock, I did so in the company of others, glass of wine in hand, so happy to celebrate the beauty created by my new friends. (Can you all come over to my house and edit with me again tomorrow? I'll provide booze.)

My super ancient iPhone took this.

I don't have regrets, but I do wish I'd taken even more photos. I wasn't as social as I thought I would be, but I gave myself permission to embrace the quiet I clearly needed. (I also realized my social skills have taken a hit since one of my constant companions can't yet talk and the other jabbers incessantly about poop and cars.) My biggest dilemma at Camp was choosing between equally tempting sessions. More than once, I made a split second decision to attend a different session and found it was (indeed, and as promised) exactly where I needed to be.



As much as I needed to be away, I also needed to return to my loves at home. Time is time is time and you never have enough when you need it but later they will be big and I will wish them to be small again and I am so happy to be home again with my loves, and my camera, sometimes still struggling to be present, definitely wishing for more sleep (But, but, but! Dylan finally and at long last started sleeping through the night! It was his welcome home gift to me, the best ever in the history of the world.) but mostly contented knowing Camp was indeed a dream, the best kind that you find yourself wanting to fall back asleep for, the kind you close your eyes to see one last time.



Except when it is a camp full of photographers, you can open your eyes and see it again and again and again.



Thank you, Tracey, thank you Myriam and Jen, thank you Shutter Sisters. You have no idea. Or maybe you do. I think maybe you do.



*I'm late, so very late to the Instagram game. This new-at-long-last addiction is worthy of its very own post.