family dinner (11/365)

In many ways, my childhood was one of constant change and transition:  my dad, an oil company executive, was transferred from city to city every two years or so, meaning that my family changed homes every two years or so.  In fact, this house that I'm living in now is the longest time I've ever lived in one location, and I'm still a bit stunned that we've not had to pack up and move even once during the 8 years we've lived here.

Marcus' childhood was far different:  he only moved once before he was 18 years old.  In fact, when we were engaged and first married, visiting his mother would mean staying in his childhood bedroom, which still held many of his books, toys and even clothes.  I marvel at any adult who can return to his childhood home, and find it relatively untouched. It was like visiting a museum.  The Marcus Adolescence Museum.  And it was glorious.

Even though Marcus and I had such different childhoods, one thing we share is our families' insistence on family dinners together -- ones that required all electronics be put away (keeping in mind that in our childhoods, "putting away electronics" meant "getting up and hitting the on/off button on the television").  As a result, having dinner together as a family is a no-brainer in our house:  the tv's off, electronics are away from the table and we sit down at the table together for dinner.

(Except for Friday nights.  Friday nights are family movie nights, and we eat together in front of a movie.  And when it's cold at night, we also have the fire going.  We love Friday night movie night.)

Our dinners aren't fancy:  Marcus usually cooks (he's an excellent cook), unless I'm in the mood for Trinidadian food, and then I cook.  Sometimes we just have a salad.  But regardless of what's on the menu, we share what happened during our days -- the good and the bad.  Very little is censored:  Alex and I know when Marcus has a bad day, and we offer advice, as they do for me, and Marcus and I do for her.  We talk about light things, like funny things that happened at Alex's school.  And we talk about heavy things -- like race and diversity, and world events, and what we can do to change the world -- even if it's our own tiny little portion of our world.  It's one of our favourite traditions.  That making the time to do this is actually proven to be beneficial for our family and for Alex never even entered the equation -- but I'm certainly pleased that this is the case.  But ultimately, dinner together is just what we do.  And definitely one of the favourite parts of my day.

Song:  Ham 'n' eggs by A Tribe Called Quest.  For the record, despite the lyrics we do eat ham 'n' eggs, even at dinner.  Breakfast-for-dinner is one of our favourites.

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Thanks to The Family Dinner Project for the opportunity to participate in this compensated editorial partnership. To learn more about the project, click here.  As always, my words and opinions are my own.

this was a good week

This was a great week.  Here's why:

•  After frantically trying to get things done before I left town last week, this week I found my groove and I'm all caught up.  Also?  Date night tonight.  Oo-rah.

•  Even though I'm caught up now, the next time I find myself buried under work, I'm going to remember Lisa's wise words.

•  I'm going to keep Erin's sage advice in mind, as well.

•  My dad emailed me images from this site -- this dude balances rocks.  Sound weird?  I agree.  Except I'm now overcome by the urge to balance rocks.

•  Awesome infographic on how to improve your travel shots.  Taught me a few things, no lie.

•  Love this photo exhibit that tries to expand perceptions on public housing.  

•  Speaking of travel, this is how I feel every time I'm on an airplane taking off.

•  The A-Z of dance.  Good Lord.  The human body is an amazing thing.

•  It's Superbowl Sunday this weekend!  We're not huge football fans in our house, so there's no telling if we'll actually watch the game -- that said, I loved this little video about how an American football is made.  (Way more interesting than Deflategate.  Just sayin'.)

•   And finally, for the song of the day, Imogen Heap performing her song Me the Machine.  I love Imogen Heap because her music is so creative, and this song is no different.  Even though the video you're about to see looks just like she's dressed up in funky clothes and dancing to added special effects, it's more than that:  using the gloves she's wearing, she "maps movements made with the gloves to musical functions such as drum sounds or bass notes, changes of pitch, arpeggios and filters, allowing her to create music by moving her hands rather than by playing a keyboard or pressing buttons."

Seriously, how cool is that?  Click here or the image below to watch.

And on that high-tech and innovative note, friends, have a great weekend.   See you next week.

tuning (10/365)

One of the things that has amazed me since Alex has taken up guitar lessons is how often the thing needs tuning.  When I was a kid I took piano lessons, and my mom had our piano tuned about once a year, if that.  But Alex is constantly tuning her guitar, and changing her guitar strings about once every 6 weeks -- because as the strings wear, the guitar goes out of tune even faster.  What's equally astonishing is that neither she nor her guitar teacher seem that fussed about it.  "Oh, that's normal," says Leland.  "In fact, it shows me she's practicing.  That's exactly how often she should be changing strings and tuning her guitar."

Dude, that would make me mental.

But then I realize that the frequency with which her guitar needs tuning feels sort of like the frequency with which my life needs tuning.  I'm constantly trying to figure out how to make my work flow better, or my life flow better.  I'm forever making little adjustments to my goals and my intentions.  And I admit that it often makes me mental.

Maybe I should take a lesson from Alex and Leland.

Song:  Sweet child o'mine, as performed by Slash and Myles Kennedy (acoustic).  Slash is Alex's favourite guitarist, and she's currently learning this song.  I can't tell you how much I love hearing her play this from the next room.

my alt summit presentation and a new about page photograph (8/365)

Yesterday I received an email from an organization for which I'm going to be a contributor, asking me to send them a new photo to accompany my bio.  Since I had just told everyone during my Alt Summit session that it was time for me to update my 4-year-old about page photo anyway, this afternoon I grabbed my camera and my shutter remote, and grabbed a few shots.

I chose the one above because it looked the most natural -- you know, for a woman smiling like a goon at nothing in particular, while home alone with a remote shutter in her off-camera hand.  

(Hey, at least I'm not wearing black.)

Incidentally, because I promised a few people that I would publish the slides from my talk, here they are.   Let no one say I'm not a woman of my word:  I may smile like a goon at nothing in particular, but my word, boy-howdy, is my bond.

Altsummit2015 from Karen Walrond

blank slate (7/365)

Today was my first full day back from Utah, and I spent most of the time catching up on work.  But in the back of my mind, I've been mulling over some of the sparks and ideas that came from listening to amazing folks I heard while I was away.  

I'm finally caught up on my work, and tonight I'll spend some time with my journal, inspired by the sketchbooks of Lisa Congdon, who was the opening keynote speaker at the conference.  

I'm ready to get going this week. I hope you are, too.

laurie (5/365)

I'm back from the Altitude Design Summit in Salt Lake City.  While I was there, I got to spend a lot of really wonderful quality time with my dear friend Laurie.  Laurie is an earnest, wickedly funny, Grammy-nominated graphic designer, and one of the most sincere and creative women I've ever met.  I asked her if she would sit for me for my Thrive Portrait Project, and happily, she agreed.  The photo above, taken yesterday, was a test shot for light.

Laurie is also on the brink of creating something really amazing.  Click here to learn more about the Step Away From the Screen community, and here to get on the list for when it officially launches.

this was a good week

This was a great week.  Here's why:

•  I'm still at the ALT Summit.  My talk went well I think, so I'm grateful for that; however, I'm even more grateful for what a good job Sara and Gabby do putting together this amazing event.  It is consistently one of my favourite conferences to attend every year, and this year is no exception -- I always leave inspired and eager to create.  

•  On Martin Luther King day, Andrea shared this quote.  It was one I'd not heard of before, and I've been thinking about it ever since.

•  My friend Rachel took a hot air balloon ride that crash-landed.  Two great things about this:  she was unhurt, and she got great video of it!

•  Flowers frozen in clear blocks of ice.  This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

•  Beards, buses and patterns.  Definitely the weirdest thing I've seen all month, and yet, I. can't. look. away.

•  Head shots of hand models.  Excellent.

•  My friend Justin turned 47 recently and as he does every year, he took a series of self-portraits, one for each of his years.  I love this so much, I may have to steal this idea.

I head back to Houston tomorrow.  Here's wishing you a stellar weekend, friends.

away office (4/365)

Even though most people think I'm an extrovert, I'm actually not -- I can only be in a crowd for a short amount of time before I have to get somewhere alone and recharge.  After a morning of mingling with the incredibly lovely people at the ALT Summit, I'm back in my hotel room for some down time, and a bit of work.  I'm not under deadline or anything, but being alone gets my head back in the right place to join everyone for lunch and sessions this afternoon.

So looking forward for more inspiration later today.  The speakers (and everyone I've met so far!) have been great.

keep shooting. yes, even the selfies. (2/365)

One of the big worries about starting this use-the-Nikon-daily project that I've begun for myself is that I'll end up taking photographs of a lot of mundane stuff:  my entryway, the trees outside, a candle on my coffee table.  My fear is that my hard drive is going to get filled with a lot of incredibly ordinary things.

But then, yesterday, I stumbled across this story of a man who came upon 31 rolls of undeveloped film from World War II, shot by a single soldier.  I suspect when the soldier took many of the photographs, he wasn't thinking that he was capturing something historic -- it was just for him to remember his barracks, or what it was like to attend church on base, or even sitting around waiting for a train with his buddies.  He was just taking photographs of his everyday life.  It's only when we look at them 70 tears on that we realize their importance.  We discover that they're taking us back in time, sharing a moment of history.

So, I say forget all the studies that maintain we're spending too much time taking photos, and not enough time living life.  Take those photos.  Snap those selfies.  Do it with abandon.  Because even though you may not realize it in the moment, you're recording history.  You're bending time.  

And besides, it only takes a second.  You can go back to living that amazing moment while barely skipping a beat.

(Click here or on the image below to watch a 10-minute film about the processing of the 31 rolls of film that soldier shot.)

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I'm off to Salt Lake City today, to attend the Altitude Design Summit.  I'll actually be speaking this afternoon at an Early Bird Session, starting at 4:30 pm -- if you're going to the conference and arrive early enough, I'd love to see you there!  Otherwise, if you miss the session, but will be in Salt Lake, please tap me on the shoulder and say hi.  

And for everyone else, I'll be updating everything -- Instagram, Facebook and even Chookooloonks -- while I'm away.  So see you soon, from Utah!

the necessity of practice

I've always been amused that the business of lawyering or doctoring is called a "practice."  It has always seemed to me that for two professions that are generally only called upon when there's a crisis, the last thing you'd want to do is to rely on the services of someone who "needs to practice."  I've long believed that lawyers' and doctors' offices should be called something more reassuring; like calling a lawyer's establishment a "Worry No More," or a doctor's business a "I Got This."

Okay, perhaps the names need a bit of work.  But you get my point.

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Six months ago, my husband got me an awesome little camera for my birthday.  Its convenience is undeniable:  it takes solid photographs, it allows me to shoot manually in a way most point-and-shoots don't, and the best part is that it's so small, I keep it on me at all times -- it remains in my handbag, 24/7.  My Nikon, which is, frankly, huge, can be a bit unwieldy to take with me everywhere, so it has been nice to have a light, powerful camera on me wherever I go, should inspiration hit and I need a visual record.

Still, 6 months later, I'm realizing that I'm using my Nikon dSLR less and less, and as a result, when I finally do pick it up, it feels vaguely unfamiliar, like a dear friend from whom I've drifted apart.  Frankly, I'm a bit confused by how this could've possibly happened.  The Nikon remains my go-to camera whenever I've been hired for professional purposes; however, there was a time when I'd pick it up daily, regardless of the reason, just to feel its weight in my hands, and experiment with what it's capable of doing.  Because while the Sony is a powerful little point-and-shoot, its capabilities don't even approach what the Nikon can do.  Not by a long shot.

It's already late January, which is sort of a strange time to be starting a 365 project, but it occurs to me that perhaps that's exactly what I need to do.  Even though I tend to take a photograph a day anyway (which often appears on my Instagram feed, courtesy of the Sony), I need to reacquaint myself with my Nikon -- not for the purposes of Making Great Art, but rather simply to re-familiarize myself with what it can do.  Even if it means taking photographs in my entryway, in low, setting light, just to see how I can make the camera react.

I won't share all of my shots here with you, but don't be surprised if more photo posts appear more frequently, under the category, #365daily.  Because I'm starting to realize that even when you know what you're doing, approaching your work with the intention of continual learning is sometimes not a bad thing.

Song:  Practice is perfect by Andy McKee