Take a closer look 📸
🍸 Let's sip a martini and talk about Jo
I’m reading Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act. In his essay on point of view, he says,
“The goal of art isn’t to attain perfection. The goal is to show who we are. And how we see the world.”
It made me think about how I use my writing and photography practice to help me process and make sense of old family stories.
The laughter and adventures. The secrets, lies, and deception. The money laundering and drug cartels. (Kidding! 🤣 Sort of.)
Sometimes, I treat relatives like a creative project, giving me a framework to wade through the messiness and finally remember the love. (Oh, when I’m in the messy middle with any of those folks.)
It helps me come to a place of understanding and compassion. And eventually acceptance.
FYI: Acceptance is a daily practice that’s more straightforward some years than others. Relationships are complicated y’all.
Take my Aunt Jo for example.
For most of my life, we never really knew each other. She was married to Uncle Donald, my Mom’s brother, and the fun times with Aunt Jo, Uncle Don, and my cousins mostly happened before I was born.
My brother and sister had a relationship with my cousins because they were close in age. But I was at least twelve years younger than everyone; that’s an entire generation.
They all went on family vacations—weekend sleepovers. By the time I was born, the relationship had already started to fall apart. My Aunt, Uncle, and cousins were around, but I was the baby. I picked up on nuances and vibes, but the serious adult conversations happened after I left the room.
Once rich Aunt Norva died (😳 OMG, was she mean), my mother and uncle's relationship ended in a fight over money and her estate.
Fast forward to my forties, when both my Mom and Uncle Don died. After living and traveling in Asia, I returned to San Francisco, and my relationship with Aunt Jo began.
I was developing my photography and loved using her as a model. Don was a great photographer, so she was comfortable with it. Every so often, we’d have a little photo shoot together.
We’d talk about her life with Don, the years they lived in Germany, his photography, and the trip to Paris, where they were attacked by alley cats every time they left their auberge (inn) on the left bank.
In hindsight, I was working on my photographic voice and looking closer at who Jo was as she aged.
I believe when art sparks a feeling inside you, it’s a whisper from the soul.
The artist whispers from their soul to yours. You feel it but are unsure if you heard it exactly right. The truth is, “right” doesn’t exist. All that matters is that you feel something and experience intimacy from their point of view.
I wanted to shift my perspective of Aunt Jo. It was about spending time getting to know each other as adults and learning more about our family lore. I had no idea what I’d do with the pictures.
I was developing a different point of view from the one my Mom raised me with.
Mom talked about a cold, intelligent woman who was a perfectionist. I got to know a frail yet confident woman who was demure and intelligent, loved having people around and could research our family lineage back to the exact shtetl we came from in Poland.
Jo also taught me our family motto, “Always look out for number uno.”
Neither my mother nor Jo had a single self-reflective bone in their bodies. And neither of them enjoyed cooking or even mothering their children. But they were both good company for dinner, utterly charming at parties, and constantly planning their next trip. Keep the stiff martinis flowing with a twist (chilled glass, never on the rocks); they’ll tell you about their shenanigans and entertain you all night. 🍸
So, I let go of all the Aunt Jo stories I grew up with. And now I have my own
Here’s my point in all this.
These photo shoots were a lot like a writing practice.
They were a way to develop and explore a different point of view.
My writing practice loosens my rigid mind when I’m fixed on a particular story or way of thinking that keeps me safe and my worldview solidly in place.
Give yourself that safe space to get it out without judgment or feeling like you need to live up to anyone’s expectations. You don’t have to use it as material or share it later.
It can help you examine your state of mind and understand your point of view so you can shift it and make room for a different perspective.
So I’ll leave you with this question: Who are the women in your family who deserve a closer look?
Stay creative,
Jen
P.S. This is the safe space we create in Scribbling Circles. It’s the perfect place to dip your toe in the water and try it out as a cathartic and meditative practice. I’m getting a date on the calendar for the end of March!
Aunt Jo would have locked that date in by the time this email went out, but we’re a little more casual around here.
Your writing and storytelling has been so so good lately, so inviting and intriguing.