Lauren Bee

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.

Filtering by Tag: fine art

It Begins: The Little Mermaid

Once Upon a Time ....

That is how all fairy tales begin.  And my own real-life fairy tale is no different --

"The Little Mermaid" is in full swing. Gowns are being sewn, watery realm costumes are arranged, camera settings are pondered over, and shot lists have been made. The first of seven sessions is slated to take place tomorrow afternoon. It will involve a pool and several mer-people, a water-housing for my Nikon FX, and a cooler full of bottled waters for those on-set.  I'm fairly certain I've planned for everything -- and also fairly certain I've forgotten at least twelve necessary things.

Of course, I am beyond excited to be photographing something so near and dear to me, a lifelong dream in the making -- but more than that, the community of people who are volunteering to come together to do this Monumental Thing, regular folks turned models, mothers bringing their little mer-children to sessions, dads posing as sailors and castle folk, and fellow artists and photographers, actors and make-up artists .....

Sometimes, in the midst of nitty-gritty, hardcore planning and swelling rushes of excitement -- sewing gowns and sending e-mails, text-answering questions about hair and make-up, thrifting for fabrics, props, and accessories .... I just stop in the middle of it all and breathe it in and think what a BLESSING this is to my heart of hearts, the thing that pumps hot life into my soul --

And also what a blessing it WILL BE to other artists when The Fine Art of Becoming hits its full stride, ushering the way for other artists to create in mad and wonderful ways, unleashing a fullness of freedom for creatives who are currently struggling or standing in the shadows, creatives who question their validity and purpose.

The way I did for so many years.

I am overwhelmed by the unfolding of it all.

My heart nearly explodes for the hope I feel for them.  They don't now it yet, but they are going to experience an awakening.  They are going to Become.

And it all begins, in earnest, tomorrow afternoon, at a neighborhood swimming pool, with a few humble hearts and a wish embedded deeply inside of visionary souls.

And they lived happily ever after?  Not yet .... and yet, indeed.  Because this is living, this madness, this community, this shared passion and purpose.  It's glorious.  And with each new development, each challenge and inching toward success, I am reminded of why we're pulling together to do this.  And that is indeed happiness.

Up Next: The Sessions.

 

Woodland Mysteries

The woods.  They feature prominently in so many stories.  Fairytales, myths, legends -- hundreds of opportunities to experience something other-worldly. 

There is a great and marvelous magic about a wooded forest, from its leaf strewn floor, damp mingling with dusty-crunch, to the beams of sunlight filtering through moss-coated branches overhead, dust sparkling in the air like fairy glitter.  The woods bode lovely things, mysterious things, the natural world inviting you into a deeper one brimming over of secret, inner imaginings full of life and strangeness and delicate, yet powerful beauty.

My heart of hearts longs for this.  It always has.  It's why as a child I was drawn to films such as Willow and The Neverending Story and The Dark Crystal.  There is a soul-aspect that speaks to dreams and of mystery, and I find myself falling into that deeper place any time I walk in the woods.  It's an invitation to something higher and truer, a place where sparkles on water allude to dancing fairies and falling leaves hint at creatures beyond the wildest imaginings.

“Etheria”
by Sarah Lagon

As if caught within the most beautiful dream,
A vision of untouched majesty only gods could scheme —
The likes of which whisper promise of mischief quite supreme —
Lies far behind the sunset's blinding gleam
A forest beyond jagged mountain pass or gently rolling hill,
Lazily idling into that sleepy Autumnal still
Which precedes the bite of winter chill,
Where curious beasts wander at will
Capricious and cocksure creatures without fear
Which, if inattentive clod be ambling near,
Need only one swift moment to disappear
And slip softly by that untrained ear
But if, perchance, observed by wayward passerby
The mystic glint of dewy fading light might belie —
Perhaps some subtle trick of the eye —
A slight presence there where faeries lie