 I have spent most of my life hesitating, waiting to say yes until I have analyzed all the possible outcomes, especially failure, regret, and embarrassment. Mostly, I don't want to waste time. Time is my love language, my currency. If I do this, will it just be a waste of time?
I spent the better part of a decade in Northern New England, redirecting my life and career to live here and re-establishing myself as a photographer. I spent many days, hours, and weeks traveling through small towns and nature byways like this one. New Hampshire looks a lot like this photo when you are driving through it: wide, clear roads, lots of trees, and big open skies. In the first years of travel, establishing myself as a photographer with local business owners, I traveled thousands of miles throughout New England. As I met more people, they often said they had been here their whole lives but had never been to this town or that area. I found myself fortunate enough to say that I had explored this area or that mentioned town. I write all of this to say that I'm glad that even though I may have been extremely hesitant and downright scared to pick up and move across the country, I am glad I did it—for the experience, the try, the community, and the peace. Yeah, lots of peace.
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Join me in experiencing this scene, a silent echo of a vibrant past.  Just after a birthday celebration of my own, I stumbled upon an unexpected scene at Kennedy Park. Where there's usually the joy of community games, an eerie silence reigned. The only sound was the wind whispering through a cluster of balloons clinging to the fence.
These colorful remnants, survivors of an unknown celebration, swayed defiantly. A testament to a party long gone, they echoed a spirit of joy and resilience that resonated with me. As a photographer, I'm drawn to the curious whispers within everyday moments. This image, for me, embodies the lingering spirit of celebration. Perhaps it sparks a similar sense of hope and fun within you.  As twilight surrenders to night, the garden whispers secrets beneath a luminous moon. A perfect orb hangs heavy in the velvet sky, its silver glow bathing the begonias in a dreamlike wash. Peach, orange, and a blush of pink unfurl their petals, of each blossom.
 Portland bloomed for us, not just with friendly faces and a charming Victorian by the bay, but with a tiny sign of hope. It wasn't planned. I was photographing a client's art haven when a miniature coffee plant stole the show. Eight inches of emerald vibrancy, nestled amongst canvases and curios. A gift for my coffee-obsessed husband, then a home roaster on a quest for mastery. We christened him Akpe, "thank you" in Togolese, a whispered gratitude for all we found in this new life. Years have unfurled, and Akpe has mirrored our growth. His leaves, once a dark caress, now brush our shoulders. Delicate white blooms, phantoms against the emerald canvas, promise the future harvest. This isn't just a photograph; it's a memory captured in light. Akpe, our silent companion, a symbol of new beginnings and the quiet magic that unfolds when we least expect it.   Paris whispered a memory to me, a forgotten echo from my photographic apprenticeship in the 1990s. Back then, a current trend ran the black and white darkrooms – a splash of color, a solitary whisper of red or blue, breathed life into the monochrome world. I reveled in it, until the spell faded.
But here in this Parisian scene, a lone red scooter ignites a spark. The black and white photograph surrenders its hues, becoming a canvas of stark contrasts. Yet, a crimson vibrant ember glowing amidst the desaturated dreamscape remains.  Once, the diner's decor may have been considered cutting-edge, with its prominent use of plastic and chrome finishes. However, over the course of several decades, it has evolved into a nostalgic landmark, embodying the essence of American cuisine. I am often drawn to capturing moments in diners across the US, as I find myself contemplating the concept of time and its passage. Diners hold a timeless charm for me, with their familiar features: the cozy vinyl-covered booths, the sleek formica tables, and the sturdy metal napkin dispenser. The menu, too, holds a sense of predictability, with its offerings of fluffy pancakes, classic club sandwiches, and the enticing blue plate specials, often listed on a charmingly retro board. These dishes are prepared right in the heart of the lunch rush, catering to hardworking individuals at an affordable price.  Among all the seating options, my personal favorite spot in a diner is the counter. It is here that life unfolds in its full spectrum of emotions and experiences. The counter serves as a hub of activity, witnessing moments of joy, frustration, artistic expression, warm hospitality, and the exchange of human interactions. Spanning a mere three feet, this slab of counter becomes the stage for some of the most memorable times and captivating entertainment.   Resting in peace, with a heavenly view. The final resting place of John Quincy Adams, with the historic United First Parish Church in the backdrop, in Quincy, Massachusetts.  Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge in Boston Bridges have always fascinated me. They are both safe and beautiful, providing a means to cross obstacles that were once thought impossible to overcome. The intricate web of lines, cables, bolts, and connections that come together to form a bridge is awe-inspiring. It is a testament to human ingenuity and the power of collaboration. Bridges are there to support us day and night, connecting us to new possibilities and experiences.
The phenomenon of cables appearing to connect on the horizon line, even when they are parallel, is intriguing. It makes me wonder about the power of connections and support between people. Just as two or three cables can support an entire bridge, we can be a bridge of support for each other simply by being true to ourselves and our purpose. We can provide support from point A to point B, just like the cables on a bridge.  Mama's drawer Her memory. Her brush. Her actual DNA. Strands of hair. Stings or beaded necklaces. Entwined. Linked. When I hold them, I am transported back to vivid memories of her, filled with bright colors and warmth. I lift the brush and smell her sweet shampoo and feel her soft white hair and I miss her. Deeply. I miss her and feel her simultaneously. The then and now. I touch the beads. I close the drawer. Take a deep breath. Press my lips together. Close her vanity drawer and continue with the day. My grandmother’s drawer. This drawer, filled with her treasured belongings, is a reminder of the love and connection we shared. And so, with a heavy heart and a grateful spirit, I continue to cherish her memory and hold her close to my heart.
 Sun break through the rain in the Old Port. Some of my thoughts as I saw the sun shine through the rain pour on Portland, Maine.
Growing up in a region where the weather was relatively stable, a change in temperature of just three degrees Fahrenheit would make the news. However, after moving to New England, I realized how integral the weather is to my daily routine. It's the first thing I check in the morning, and it determines everything from what I wear to whether I need to turn on the air conditioning or heating. Being from California, I was used to wearing sandals and rarely having to wear socks or closed-toe shoes, but now I have to consider my footwear based on the weather and that’s just the beginning of all the other decisions of the day. Will I have to reschedule a photography session? Do I need to clothes windows before the rain comes in? Despite the challenges that come with constantly changing weather, I have come to appreciate and even love the New England rain. Coming from a typically parched part of California, every time it rains in Maine, I feel a sense of excitement and gratitude. I see it as a sign that the heavens haven't given up on us and that our blooms and fruit orchards might soon get a much-needed drink. Whenever it rains, I look up to the sky and hope that some of it will make its way to California. |
Liz DavenportAs a photographer, I am attracted to time, adventure, and the unique. This stems from a desire to capture moments that are fleeting and capture experiences that are one-of-a-kind. The world is full of endless possibilities and as a photographer, curiosity drives me to explore and document these instances through the lens of my camera. By seeking out new adventures, I hope to be able to capture moments that are unique and timeless. Whether it's the intricacies of a bustling city or the serenity of a remote landscape, I am constantly intrigued by these words so much so that I have recognized them to be so dearly valued in my personal life. Unique. Adventure. Time. Archives
July 2024
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