Inside the Secret Family: Self-Portrait in White. ©Copyright 2014 Anjani Millet
Our family, like so many, seems fraught with mystery and intrigue. On a sunny afternoon last week, I decided to capture as best I could the feeling of being a member of my sometimes strange and secretive family. I shot this series of self-portraits using mixed light – natural daylight and two speedlites (flash units), one on camera, and one behind the door without a modifier (softbox, umbrella, etc.) Here is the first of the series.
Red Dots and Pantaloons, I’m charming! ©Copyright 2014 Anjani Millet
Long ago, I set 2 personal goals: I wanted to be charming, and always smell lovely. Sadly, me and perfume don’t get along, but today I feel quite dapper and maybe even a little charming in a little red polka dot dress and, that’s right, white pantaloons. Who couldn’t feel adorable in pantaloons, seriously? #HowToFeelAdorable #vintage #Clothing #selfie #Pantaloons #PolkaDots
Self-Portrait on Glass Table by Anjani Millet
I Give In: Self-Portrait on Glass Table. Copyright 2014 Anjani Millet
I am writing here because I am exhausted and maybe at an important moment. This is the truth, this is me, and this is what I have to offer.
I am up to my eyeballs, two states away from home again, taking care of my mother with Alzheimer’s and my grandfather, 102, who is on his way out. I have been sleeping in my grandfather’s hospital room at night and caring for my mom during the day, switching shifts with my two siblings. Today we meet with the family to discuss whether to put him on a feeding tube or let him go, as he directed years ago. This is a terrible decision for any family to have to make.
Yesterday I took my mother to a neurosurgeon to discuss the mass in her brain, on top of Alzheimer’s. It appears to be non-threatening for now. At 9pm we rushed her to the ER in terrible pain and vomiting. Oh, my friends, I can never unsee my tiny, 100 lb., 4’8″, 83 year old mother on her little hands and knees vomiting in the kitchen.
Love offers a thousand ways for a heart to break.
There is no “aside from this.” I can’t begin to describe how squared into a corner I feel. It is taking a whole team to care for both of them. Our lives, all of them, are simply waiting in the distance.
Trying to find time or even a quiet space to work, or just putter…oh… Oh dear. I know this won’t last forever but exhaustion is right now.
Here is the merciful peace Into which I am dissolving in the question about how to find time or space to do “my own work:” I have no choice but to be the eyes and hands I am, and to be in the life in which I find myself. I have fought my own vision for decades now, but I am too tired to fight it anymore or even search for what it is. I give in. I can only be me. My own life is all I have to offer as an artist, and now, perhaps, I can and must let this be enough.
I went into business as a photographer and writer in the 80’s for over a decade, and then left for 12 years. Since I returned to my work as an artist 18 months ago, I find I still operate under the tired and old idea that the personal should be entirely separated from the artistic and business. That rule has constipated my creativity and soul, and stopped me from posting and sharing 90% of my work with you.
I give in. I can only be me. I can only offer me. I don’t have time to focus on the “right” work, the right subjects, the rules I believed were the right way to be and work as an photographer, a writer, a business person.
Those are the rules that are slowly killing me, my throat in a stranglehold by my own hands for too long. I am forced now to integrate my own actual life with my work. Yes. I give in. I am only this.
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down the dulcimer.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
The personal is political, yes. And, the personal is the artistic. The personal is the business.
In great tiredness I release the old noose of my own making and say yes, I suppose I will have to be just me. I don’t have the time not to.
I write this from my hands and eyes, and extend this to you from my loving, supportive heart. I hope my own vulnerable moment might help you. If, like me, you placed your own best self aside in deference to the “correct” way to live, or the “best” way to do business, in whatever that may look in your mind, I extend my hand, and I invite you to let life wear down your walls a little bit. I hope for us both when we hear ourselves knocking at the door, we open it up and invite our own selves in for tea.