the cat in the woods

Story 25/52

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the cat in the woods

it's somewhere in this patch of the woods. it's here. It has to be. this is where she buried it and oh my god, she can't have lost it, not now, not when the flames are coming. she needs to find it. mushrooms, plants, small insects. there are bones from the carcasses of small rodents and her finger lingers on the bone for an instant, waits for the soul of the mouse or rabbit to patch itself onto her finger and moves on. one more soul, one more creature. she has almost enough.

her feet are cold against the tree trunk she is standing on. she can hear the men in the back, shouting, asking the women to take the children, take the animals they can. the fire is coming to take the village and there's not much they can do. but she does need to find it. she needs it desperately.

if she doesn't find it, she won't be able to carry the souls of the dead.

she considers dropping the soul of the small animal to leave more space for the humans, but she knows she won't be able to. all souls are alike, she was told. humans or animals, they are equal. neither has predominance.

a small rat makes its way through the wood and stops, stares at her. she hisses. the rat isn't impressed, but the tiny paws come together and she knows it's one of her own. she's probably looking for souls to save, as well. they share a look and the rat moves on.

'take them for me, would you?' she whispers, and she swears she can see the faintest nod. she can go back to searching for the vial. it's somewhere in here.

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I hope you like this. I really, really, really hope you like this, because today I finally feel like I'm telling stories again. this photo feels like a new beginning, like coming home, like doing what I love. I'm actually happy about it. And all I had to do was to get out of the house and shoot. i realized this week that I hadn't taken my stuff and gone into the woods to shoot in almost a year and a half. I forced myself to do it on wednesday, because it was sunny and warm and I wanted to try out my 1.4 in the wild — and this came out. I am so very happy about it. I hope you are too.

And let's hope I'm able to keep up doing this, and not slacking like I have been until now.

Thank you so much for your immense support, dear friends. You guys are amazing.

I am less than fifty followers away from 2,000, on my facebook page! Don't forget to like it and to tell your friends, I am doing a print giveaway as soon as I reach 2k!
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I will keep asking: do not blog my photos without credit AND linking back; do not use weheartit.com to bookmark my photos and please please PLEASE don't instagram my work. Thanks to those of you who respect these requests.

weekly shot — outtakes and behind the scenes

I feel like I have abandoned this place! I shall correct that. I'm sorry I've been absent for a week — it's just been a weird time for me, even though it was good. I've just been photographing more and editing less and having less time to spend here. But I promise to be better from now on!

In the meantime, you can check out this article from fstoppers.com! I am featured! It was such an honor to be there with names like Brooke Shaden or my friend Sarah Ann Loreth. It really was amazing, and it came at a wonderful time; I've been feeling very down about my art, very uninspired. That these people like my work? It's a fantastic feeling.

On with the work, though. You can see the original shot on Flickr; here are the outtakes and the behind the scenes photos!

demons

Story 7/52

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demons

As it became, she knew that if she opened her mouth they would come crawling out. She did. She wanted them out, she wanted to purge the demons inside of her. She wanted the creatures to run free and wild and away from her. The thoughts. The evil thoughts that made her anxious, that made her crawl with fear and sadness and the certainty that everything was going to go wrong. She wanted them out. She would cut herself, but that would show and she didn’t want anyone knowing. She would throw herself off a building, but that would cause pain to the people she loved, and she didn’t want that, either. She just wanted the bad thoughts to go away. She just wanted them to fade, to become unimportant. She wanted death to stop being a part of her brain, the most prominent part. She wanted the sadness and the questioning and the fear and the anxiety to be a part of her past. So she opened her mouth and let them run away, let them go and flee and go some place so far that they could never be seen again.

She might need to do it again tomorrow. And the day after that and for as long as she existed. It was exhausting. But at least it was something she could do.

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a starless sky

Story 6/52

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a starless sky

And as she fell down the sky, she realized that no earth or moon or sun could ever bring her back to grace. She was done. There would be no thinking again, no believing that it's all right. This fall would follow her for the rest of her existence.

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I was told to put my messed up emotions into photos. I guess this is what came out. It's mostly related to the loss of innocence that comes with the first panic/anxiety attacks. You realize your life is never going to be the same again, because you'll always have that cloud over you, the possibility of everthing going horribly wrong due to a crisis.

I don't know. I'm just not very optimistic today.

behind the scenes of [tangled up in beauty]

When I started to use this blog more often, I challenged myself to post more behind the scenes shots, from my more elaborate shoots. sadly, I haven't been able to do much of that; either because I'm busy or because I shoot in a hurry (this start of project has been bumpy, to say the least), I hadn't had the chance to do it yet. Well, here is the first BTS of this 52 Stories Project. I hope you like the photos; let me know what you think, whether you have any suggestions of how I can improve my work. I've been in a funk for a little while and I can't wait to get out of it.

More pictures under the cut!

tangled up in beauty

Story 4/52

tangled up in beauty

She liked to get tangled up in lace.

It gave her the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm embrace of pink and fabric and the smell of softener. Ever since she was little, she liked to hide in the linnen closet.

So she did that, still. She hanged lace from the ceiling and played with it when she could; tangling it up, wrapping it around herself and marveling at how bright it looked against her skin, stained by the red of her lips.

It was of a beauty she could not contain or explain.

photomaton (or the way a city changes you)

Every time I go out on a journey, I come back a little bit different. And I usually do a photo shoot just to keep a memory of that change to myself. 

This time, in Berlin, I grew. I had never roamed a city alone, had never been on a new and strange subway, had never spent time alone in a place I didn't know as well as the back of my hand. Having a big family will do that to you: you end up always traveling with someone. Whether an aunt or a cousin or a grandparent, you're never alone. But I did all that in Berlin, and absolutely loved it. Of course, there were other things making my trip an absolute delight. Love. Laughter. A new and wondrous place. But I feel like my ability to spend time alone was what changed me the most. That, and having a pair of arms to come back to at the end of my tiny adventures in town, waiting for me just around the corner, telling me I could do it and holding my hand when I thought I couldn't. So yeah. It was a good trip. I think these pictures show exactly that. 

More pictures after the cut, if you're in the mood for some shameless and childish self promotion. I do think I have a new facebook picture, though. 

the apple pickers

The Apple Pickers

it starts with the fall, the way the applies redden on the tree branches, invading the entire orchard tenaciously.  There were rows of apple trees, of peach trees, cherries and pears. But the apples were the most important of all the land — plump and juicy, they were known to make the best apple jams and pies in the state. 

The twins rose early on harvest days. Their usual sleepiness disappeared as soon as their parents started to call their workers to the Orchard, the metallic bell resounding through the entire plantation. They picked their baskets and ran across the fields: his hand holding his hat in place as she released her braids from the morning confinement of the bonnet, leaving the scrap of fabric between blueberry bushes and the strawberry field. The smiles lit up their faces; the summer had turned to fall and suddenly everything made sense again, the warmth of the clothing, the commotion and the action of making jam and pie and spending days secluded in the kitchen, surrounded by their helpers. 

The songs of the helpers filled the air as they worked. The twins were a stark contrast to their dark skins, and yet, that was the place where they felt more included. They could sing and dance, they could jump and laugh and cry and no one would shut them up; there would be no punishment, no going to bed without dessert. The helpers? They knew what it was like to be without food. They wouldn't take it from them. It had been that way ever since they were children.

Eldora was their nanny, growing up. Replacing the figure of the grandmother that was too busy entertaining guests, she would sit them on each of her legs, hold them close until they were both asleep. They didn't talk much; they didn't need to, with her. She knew what they needed even they couldn't put it into words. 

They stopped as they reached the Orchard, their eyes following the trail of dark skinned people taking stairs, holding up baskets, singing songs of love and longing. And mourning. They were singing a song of mourning for Eldora, and the twins sat on the fence while the men and women gathered in a circle, placing their baskets in the middle. 

The boy threw an apple in the air while they stared, his concentration showing in the way he always caught it, always threw it at the same height. The girl twisted her braid between her fingers, a sign of nervousness. She should be in nursing school and he should be helping Daddy with the sales, at the office: but there they were, the clothes from when they were young teenagers only half-fitting, the hat and the checkered shirts and the skirt too short. And they were exactly where they wanted to be.

they stood still, eyes glued to the spectacle before them. There were colors and music and the smell of apples in the air. 

The servants danced now, a young girl they knew as Ginny singing a song of magic and love and the sacred land of God. And with that song in mind, they picked up their baskets and moved to help.

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Story 1/52

Welcome to my new weekly project, 52 Stories. Don't forget to this blog or Flickr to see the photos and stories posted every Friday afternoon! 

I hope you like the project and that you follow it as enthusiastically as I am making it. These projects are nothing without your words, your opinions and your encouragement, so don't be shy! Talk to me!

the drowning of the pirate princess

New shot on flickr: the drowning of the pirate princess

okay, I promise I'm shutting up, now.

I just decided to post this picture on Flickr — because my selfies start piling up when I take too long to post them — and thought it would be a good idea to post the outtakes here!

Enjoy!

a hipster way of saying 'see you later!'

I'm finally going on vacation! I have a plane ride to Porto Santo, a portuguese island, in a few hours, and I thought I'd leave you with a couple of photos that are nothing but an exercise in self-portraiture. I hadn't taken a selfie that I liked in a while, so I decided to do it on Tuesday, while my darling worked as well.

I hope you guys have an incredible week! I'm not sure I'll be able to come online during this week, but if I do get the opportunity, I'll post something for you guys.

Red, or the woman with the cherries in her hair [backstage post]

I’ve decided to use this blog more often, to give you backstage pictures of my shoots, of other commercial-type works that I do and to answer questions. Feel free to drop me a word at my ask box with any questions or suggestions you might have!

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For a while now, I’ve been wanting to do a color-based series. I ended up starting it accidentally, last week, with my butterfly shot — the accidental orange theme of the photo prompted me to think about more and more ways to base portraits on color. 

I did a couple of attempts for the red; I tried with wool, with my gymnastics ribbon, with lipstick. And then last weekend, I was finishing lunch and it came to my mind: cherries. It took me forever to get them to stay in my hair (bobby pins are a godsend!) and to walk very softly to my grandmother’s bed, where I took the pictures. But I think it was worth it. Below, you have a few of the outtakes.

^ taking photos in my grandmother’s room is a guarantee that I’ll have at least four saints looking at me, including a Baby Jesus. I like them. 

Photo post #41: Selected works out of 365!

Eu sei, eu sei, tenho andado desaparecida! Mas estou de volta, e espero conseguir postar fotos com mais regularidade! No entretanto, se quiserem ir vendo as minhas fotos diárias, entre posts, têm o link na sidebar, que vos dirige para o meu flickr. :)

Cá vão as minhas favoritas do 365!

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I know, I know, I've been MIA! But I'm back, and I expect to be able to post more regularly! Meanwhile, if you want to check out my daily updates, feel free to click on the link on the sidebar, and you'll see my flickr page! :)

Here go my favorites from 365!