More Than Country Music -- Huntsville, AL Photographer in Nashville, TN

When most people think of Nashville, Tennessee, they think "country music capital".  And it is that.  But it's much more.  Besides being the town I call home (yes it's a "town" and yes, despite my living in Huntsville, Alabama, Nashville will always be "home" to me -- thank goodness it's only two hours away!), Nashville is the place you want to go for not just music (and oh my goodness, great music is literally on every street corner -- really), it's also where you've got to get to if you want good food, great family entertainment, a fabulous weekend nightlife, and friendly faces.  Heck, it was even dubbed 'Most American city" by AOL!  So if you've never been, you have got to go.  Get thyself there, pronto. Not convinced?  Maybe some visual aids will help.

First, let's talk shopping.  Nashville has all of the basics -- malls and shopping centers, and so on -- but it's also got a kickin' thrifting and vintage vibe going on.  Fantastic finds are ripe for the buying, everything from kitschy decor and vinyl records to funky clothes and furnishings -- even old cameras (which, of course, makes my heart swoon).  My most recent favorite place to prowl around is Pre to Post Modern at 2110 8th Avenue South.  I bought a cool green skirt there a few months ago and it's now a wardrobe staple.  When you go, plan on at least an hour to poke around.  It's a treasure trove of goodness!

Shopping is going to take it out of you, so you'll need a place for some yummy nosh.  Here are three of my personal favorites:

• Fido, in Hillsboro Village, has great coffee, great food, and unbelievable desserts -- all made fresh daily with local, organic ingredients.
• The Pharmacy, at 731 McFerrin Avenue, is well known for their creative and extra-drippy burgers (slathered with assorted cheeses and bacon and ham and sometimes fried eggs -- yes, fried eggs).
• And The Grilled Cheeserie food truck, found wherever it happens to be (check their website or mobile tracker to locate 'em on a daily basis), serves slap-yore-granny grilled cheese sandwiches;  seriously, you won't believe how incredible grilled cheese can be -- but be prepared for a long line because all of Nashville knows the best place to get a sandwich and no one minds the wait.  They're that good.

A good runner up on places to eat would have to be the Elliston Place Soda Shop, right there on Elliston Place.  Their food is good -- staples like burgers and fries, meat 'n threes, and Ruben sandwiches -- but they absolutely rock the the concept of a soda shop: egg creams, milkshakes, floats, malts, and traditional dreamsicles, they've got it all.  And the atmosphere can't be beat.

Lastly, entertainment.  Nashville has it all, from geek con-fests and music, to hockey and football, to free plays and museums.  They've got a dozen different things to choose from on any given weekend throughout the year.  Some of our favorites include the Nashville Shakespeare Festival every August and September, right there in Centennial Park;  Nashville Dancing, at Riverfront Park, with live music galore;  and the Tomato Arts Festival every August, in the Five Points district (or what I like to call "little Portland").  All of these events are fun for the whole family, so don't miss 'em!

This Creative Thing -- Huntsville, Alabama Photographer

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the memoir Eat Pray Love (and more recently the novel The Signature of All Things) talks extensively about the concept of creativity and what exactly it is and has been believed to be over the course of history.  It's rather a complex thing, Creativity -- and from here on I think I'll refer to it respectfully with a capital "C" -- complex because it is elusive and difficult to achieve and capture, yet simultaneously thick in the air around us, filling the nooks and crannies of our collective human presence, assuming responsibility for what is beautiful and ingenious and mind-blowing, invading consciousness in the wakeful hours of early morning yet slipping away just as dawn breaks and real life clamors for our time and attention.  Creativity is a driving force in the lives of so many -- I would even venture to guess in the lives of most, if not all of us, even if some of us are the first to self-depricatingly murmur to the contrary.  (If you believe yourself incapable of Creativity -- don't.) For me, Creativity has been the single most torturous -- and transcendent -- entity of my existence.  It not only feeds the driving flashes of brilliance within me, it also nudges me in my darkest hours, when I least expect its presence, when I've given up all hope of it ever appearing again -- and just as I feel that glimmer of excitement at its return, it giggles before slipping away like so much smoke on a breeze.  Creativity has been, for me, exactly as Elizabeth Gilbert describes it, a sort of demon spirit, irrational, inexplicable, otherworldly.

Otherworldly.  Yes, now I am on to something . . .

I am tempted to describe the ache and torment of Creativity as a demon, taunting and cruel.  If I think on it long enough I can even make up in my mind the sound of its derisive laughter as I grapple with this or that word to write, this or that visual image that just.  isn't.  appearing in the way I need it to.  But if I am truly, deeply honest, maligning Creativity in that way feels so off.  So wrong.  So the antithesis of what Creativity is, a slander against its good name.

Grappling with Creativity then becomes more about grappling with the self -- the limitless inner self of spirit in juxtaposition with finite blood and bone.  It ceases being "this internalized, tormented thing" and instead becomes "this peculiar, wondrous, bizarre collaboration, kind of conversation" between me and God.  The reconciliation I make, when I wake up on those mornings where children have to be fed, and clients have to be called, and homeschool lessons have to be administered, and laundry has to be done -- it is on those mornings that I feel Creativity sitting idly by, ever present, watching me from a dark corner -- smirking at me?  No, something within me insists on an understanding much deeper than appearances:  that it is merely my inner turmoil doing the talking, my insecurities and fears.  Suddenly the reality becomes what I know to be true and good and right:  Creativity is more properly described as divine, as a calling belonging to and coming from Someone higher than me and my worries, my petty fears.

Child of God that I am, made in the image of the supreme master of all things miraculous and scientific, wondrous and beautiful, kind and inordinately breathtaking -- what I must concede is that God has made me as well -- fearfully and wonderfully (!) made to go out into the world and create fearful and wonderful things.  And doesn't that transform the idea of Creativity from the imp I envision, chortling derisively at me in a corner, thwarting my every good desire, into something more accurate, something much higher, something filled with light and infinately more trustworthy?  Oh yes, it does.

And there -- there it is, can you see it?

Creativity, the delightful, dancing spirit within -- not come to mock me, but invite me, come to rescue any average day and redeem it, perfect it, hone it, transform it.  And just like that, all is put into its proper place.  Laundry gets done (at least one load).  Dinner gets made (even if it is a pre-packaged pizza tossed into an oven).  And I give myself permission to slip away and into the intoxicating coma of Creation, channelling through my spirit the spirit of God, in large and small ways, feeling at peace in the act of capturing beauty in a photograph, sculpting words into a sentence, post-editing a perfect image.  It's a partnership, my soul mingled with that of the Creator, and for one brief moment, a glimpse of who I truly am, who He truly is, and who we are truly together: Creator and Creation.

Beauty Abounds -- Huntsville, Alabama Photographer

Last week on Pinterest I saw a meme which quoted Yann Arthus-Bertrand  as saying, "The earth is art;  the photographer is only a witness."  This statement resonates so completely with me because it's fairly exact in the way I view the world and how I move around in it -- indeed, I've found the very simple act of picking up my camera has forced me to see things even more clearly than I ever did before:  the beauty in a drop of water, steam rising from the dew-soaked earth, catch lights in the eyes of a child, dust motes in sunlight -- and all of it is art, moments that evoke a sense of awe, moments that bring me to my figurative knees.  

I've described it, this magical thing that happens the moment I have camera in hand, as a forced slowing down.  Weather I move around in my own home or step into the out-of-doors, with a client or alone in the woods, we -- my camera and I -- see the entire world all at once, yet through a singular, hyper-focused pin-point of concentrated light.  I see details I never noticed before, details I want the whole world to see because they're heart-stopping in their simplicity, in their raw beauty.

As Dorthea Lange said, "the camera is an instrument that teaches people to see without a camera."  (I saw that on Pinterest too.)