I’ve been on my own journey.

And it’s a joyful one. So, indulge me once again.

Because the details are in the fabric on this one, to quote my boy, Jason . . . .

Rewind to November. I’m in Tom Bond’s office at Helping Up Mission in Baltimore . . . taking a friend on a tour through my home away from home . . . and I see this incredible piece of artwork on Tom’s office wall.  Robin in the Hood.

“I need to meet him,” I say to Tom. And he laughs.

“I’m not kidding.”

It took one meeting with Shawn Colvin.  One hour of hearing his voice. . . .talk of his childhood in DC, his stint in foster care, his stepfather’s abusive hands, his chance meeting with an estranged father on a public bus . . .his season of hope . . .  his journey into addiction in LA. . . and his fight into recovery. It’s  the texture of his beautiful tapestry that captured me.

I sensed it immediately . . . incredible focus, drive, talent, joy, passion . . . and it’s irresistible. Yes, I was hooked.

So . . . .I brought my friend, Jerry Pope to meet Shawn.  Jerry, of our Giant commercial. Now, Uncle Jerry to our family.

Jerry is a Cannes/ Chloe award winning director who survived the challenge of working with a nervous “real mom” over the summer.  He told me  to trust him, and I did. And I survived. Actually, I thrived.

He, also, is driven by incredible focus, drive, talent, joy and passion. Jerry saw it in Shawn.  A story that needed to be told, and if Jerry Pope is anything, he is an amazing story teller.

And selfishly, I wanted to witness the birth of a beautiful relationship between artists.  The building of trust. The marriage of true minds.

It was bliss. And I think that makes me a mensch. Officially. Which is what I always wanted to be, anyway.

And the icing on the cake? Jeff Barklage  happened to be in town, and brought along his Epic . . . taking our little production to a new level.

So . . . take a look at my truly photojournalistic documentation of the synergy of three amazing artists converging.

Keep your eye out for Shawn Colvin. Soul City is his movement.   Amazing graphic artist. That’s all I’m at liberty to say . . . but remember that name. And guess where  Robin in the Hood lives?  Well, let’s just say I made out on that deal:)

Who ever said there are no heroes in the ghetto?

Lazy Sunday afternoons after church, my sister and I would seclude ourselves in the club room basement my dad finished himself, complete with rich panelling, red carpet, and a  wall full of their books. We acted out our fairy tale dreams through our Barbie collection, fought over who had to be Ken, married ourselves off, and birthed a bevy of adoring children.

Unaware, we created our lives.

And on the console stereo, Jim Croce would lead us through missives for which we had no understanding.

Leroy Brown was Mom’s song.  Singing her line at the top of our lungs, we’d then wait for Dad’s line . . .  the men just called him sir. We liked that idea.

Mom taught me a thing or two about a thing or two.

 Here’s a partial list.

When life gets hard, keep moving. Forward, preferably.

Never depend on another person to make you happy. Do that for yourself.

Be your own best friend. Kind, honest and forgiving.

Never write anything you don’t want the whole world to see.

I get some of them right, some of the time.

Mom’s birthday was a celebration of indulgence. Emily Michael’s  truffles,  food prepared by Chef Jerry Edwards, a steady stream of Alison Krauss,  Mom’s two besties and our family. Of course my dad made it all happen . . .  heavy lifting, setup, and clean up , you name it.

One more  admission . . . when Jerry said yes to , “will you come make beautiful food for my family?,” he had no idea that he’d be entertaining and teaching a culinary class. But the whole family wanted in on the action. Can you blame them really?

Jerry:   ” Now, what do you think will happen when I pour club soda into the tempura batter?”

Happy birthday, Mom. I LOVE YOU!  Mwahh!!

Meet Ashley Riddle, principle at Up Do’s for I Do’s. Talk about a firecracker.   Story goes like this . . .we find ourselves at an event together last week and begin talking business. That’s our MO. Tucked into a corner, we’ve got our arms flying and our laughter rolling. We roll it out the next morning over coffee at Starbucks.

Now it’s your turn to get in on the action.

And hurry . . . because the dates are over half booked. Yep. We type A’s don’t mess around. LOL. Email me through my website to book with our office manager. Please indicate whether you’d like a morning or afternoon session.  Oh, and I put some FAQ’s at the bottom to save you some time.

The sessions will be held on April 22, 2012 with a rain date of May 6, 2012 on the grounds of a beautiful property in Woodstock, MD.

We will provide a choice of two sets on which to be photographed. (you will choose one)

One set will have a vintage flavor; the other a more contemporary flavor

Each session will be an hour in length. 30 minutes will be spent in hair and make up. Mom will have full hair and makeup and the other participants will have a “touch up.”

The shooting portion of the session will be 30 minutes.

After the session, you will receive a mini gallery of 3-5 shots from which you will choose one image. You will receive that full sized image via email with copyright release.

The remainder of your gallery will be posted online to share and from which to order prints.

You may purchase your entire gallery with copyright release for $199.

Fine retouching of images is $25/image.

All sessions must be prepaid. Due to the nature of the event, we will not be able to accommodate session changes the day of, nor will we be refunding cancelled sessions. We will provide a make up date and do our best to accommodate your schedule in the case of inclement weather.

more questions?? email me.

It’s that simple.

Linda’s struggle?   How could it be the second dress I put on? The day after I got engaged? And I just stopped in because I was excited but my Mom and sister aren’t even here.

Linda had never been in the capable hands of designer Drew VanLandingham, principle at VanLandingham Design Studios when she floated into Francesca’s Bridal Salon on a late winter afternoon.

Very wise woman, that Francesca . . . to host a Saturday afternoon prosecco party with the DVL.

Linda put on her first dress and said to Drew . . . “I just feel it needs a little more drama.”  Hand to  chin, Drew thought for  a beat, turned and pointed to the mannequin in the store front. “Peggy, love, can you just take that dress off that mannequin? That’s Linda’s dress.”

Truth. Check it out.

Cause when you know, you just know. And you can’t unknow what you know.

Keep your ear to the ground for the DVL . . . there’s already a buzz. . .

and when I know, I know.

Dear Alexa Jane,

You were born into a house of love. The kind of love that costs big.

I met your Daddy when you were days old. His sweatshirt hood pulled low to hide the pallid face of withdrawal, I served him lunch when his shaky hands could barely hold the tray.

Late winter broke into verdant spring and your Daddy continued to come through my line.  I began to know him in snippets. First thing he ever shared with me?  “I have a  daughter, Alexa Jane . . .she’s a month old.”

Each of us has a story, and your Daddy had the courage to tell his piece by piece.  Months passed and  in the heat of late summer I saw your Daddy out on the sidewalk. We had our first real conversation.

I could tell that he was very bright. Incredibly bright. One of a tribe of highly successful, ambitious siblings. And he had struggled with drug addiction for some time. It was one step forward, three steps back for several years. And he was weary.

And then you came along. And love won out.

Alexa Jane, your Daddy held you as a newborn and knew that he didn’t want to hold you with compromised arms.  He wanted his embrace to be strong and true. Not perfect, but true.  The embrace of a father who would go to the ends of the earth for his little girl. I know this, because I have that kind of father.

Alexa, your Daddy has the kind of courage that moves him from the darkest night toward the life he was meant to live. And his day one at HUM is not the one that matters so much, but it’s the day after day of life choices that  make the strongest stand toward that end. Yep. Your Daddy has integrity, Alexa Jane.

Thank you, baby girl, for allowing me to share your first birthday party with you. You were surrounded by your people . . .  family and friends that love you and your Mommy and Daddy. Yes, you are well loved, Alexa Jane. I watched  you taste your very first finger swipe of chocolate frosting, then turn to share it freely. I watched you pad around exploring boldly  in your pink tulle skirt and sassy leather slippers. And  I watched the sandman kiss your forehead, giving your eyes the glaze that says, “It’s been a good day, and now I’m going to float in the arms of the one who loves me.”

Know this, baby girl.  Hope begins in the dark.

To hold and be held? Well, that’s to feel the sun from all sides.

And love wins. Every time.

.

Fierce white dress, easy giggle, porcelain skin and complete body awareness . . . she is the perfect Eastern European complement to his swarthy good looks. Yep, her Polish accent makes her completely irresistible.

Baska and Greg were married in a civil ceremony in January, and wisely knew that they’d better document before too much time passed.  And whoever said that February on the eastern seaboard does not provide prime conditions for outdoor shooting was wrong. Dead wrong.

We chased beautiful late afternoon light over the grounds of the Historical Society of Baltimore County. We talked mechanical engineering (him) and life with a family of engineers (her). And they did a bit of kissing and laughing along the way.

The Porsche was darn hot too.

My reader, I want to tell you something that’s happened more than a couple times this year. Couples will contact me after the wedding day (sometimes even thirty years!)  to say . . . can we hire you just for an hour or so to get some killer wedding images? These are clients whose weddings I did not shoot.

Smart clients. Because for the price of a romantic meal at a restaurant, they get a gift that they don’t have to work off in the gym,  a gift that lasts forever. . . and to the boys who think they don’t like being in front of my camera? . . . it’s some pretty effective foreplay. Win-win.

I’m not trained, per say, by profession or schooling to weigh morality or administer counsel. My girlfriends would say I have a knack for capturing a cool snapshot,   throwing together a tasty meal out of “catch as catch can,”  and drawing the life story of just about anyone who will share.  I have a keen eye for color and the ability to get a task completed quickly and efficiently. I love clean lines and order. That gives me peace.

All this to say I’ve never earned a doctorate, run a marathon or written a book. I’m actually not an expert in any field, and to write about why my favorite place to be is HUM, is, well, a bit daunting. I can’t even really talk about the economy, politics or the scientific case for the universe, and when my professor husband uses phrases  like “integrating learning community pedagogy,” well, I have to admit I find myself hungry for a bowl of Cherry Garcia. My life is motherhood. I have a large family, and I’ve been one of those hem them in and protect their souls kinda moms. I’m a photographer. So my work is to draw people out and capture the real. I don’t confuse the two, for the second is only an extension of the first.

My favorite place to be these days is at HUM, an addiction rehabilitation program for 400+ men in the heart of my Baltimore. I’m not exactly sure how I got there. For years, I had heard about HUM but argued that it was too far, and that our small town, an hour northwest of the city had it’s own addicts. And you don’t get to pick your addicts or your family. Why travel an hour to fill a need that existed right out my back door?  And, honestly,  the thought of serving  400 men, barely hanging on by a thread was actually not that appealing to me, for after feeding my own family of ten, three squares, I’m not looking for more kitchen time.

I made the leap on behalf of a Great Books course I was tutoring. They were seniors, and we were all bored. So, I got permission to take the lot of them to HUM . . . just on a whim. I was doing this for their own good. We started with our facility tour, and I knew I was in trouble when I entered the library. It was the guy behind the library desk. He was the guy that I had seen in the comfy chairs at Barnes and Noble, sipping a latte and reading Atlas Shrugged. Young, bright, stars in his eyes. It happened over and over again that day. What I thought I would see was not what I saw. These were not strung out, lazy indigents . . . and I am ashamed to write that phrase, but that was my expectation. I served dessert at lunch that first day . . . and quickly realized that these guys were just like me. One decision from destruction, but they were living  transparent lives . . . living their beautiful mess out loud. From the get go, I realized that HUM gives me more than she takes. She gives me hope. She gives me escape from my own sludge . . . if just for two hours, twice a week. And yes, she gives my heartbreak, for I’ve oft come to look forward to seeing a friend only to find he’s been beckoned back to his mistress.

I haven’t completely figured out why I wake up happy to drive an hour to fill up the cups with ice water.  Maybe it’s where I see Jesus these days most clearly. Maybe it’s human connection. Maybe it’s completely self serving. But a couple times every week, we pile  into the Suburban, roll down the windows, turn up the music and barrel on down to the city where I leave with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Every time.

I’ve published this retrospective into a hip pocket sized book . . . and yes, it’s available with a portion of the proceeds going to HUM. Contact me if you’d like to support HUM in this way. ($25.)

The Wagners were in celebration mode. It was five years ago that John and a small team ventured to establish a  high-end broker and consulting company that focuses exclusively on the risks associated with construction and real estate companies. So, the power boys were there to celebrate and they did it in style at Baltimore’s Marriott Waterfront. The entire evening was total class from start to finish . . . executed seamlessly by designer Karen Stott of KS Designs and event planners, Jodie Limsky and Sue Green of Event Planning Resources. They know how to run events. Period.

Sunset VIP cocktail party on the 31st floor . . . quite nice.

City life does have its appeal.

Oh wait. The view out the other window.

Classical guitar to die for . . . all about the mood.

John and Suzanne  . . . magic together.

Entertainment Exchange’s Free Spirit knows how to work the crowd. That dance floor was full all night. Agent, Vicki Preston knows how to pick em.

CEO Chaplain, Mike Donohue . . . well, it’s a classical allusion to be sure.

The effervescent Wagner ladies . . . Shannon, Courtney, and Nicole.

Corporate done right. With a sense of humor.

Yes. Photo booth fun.

Enter Peter Krug, to whom I explained my vision, and a week later my glass work space floated weightlessly. haha! Artistic perfection. Ummm, Peter’s, not mine.

Quickly,  I invited myself into Peter’s studio, wanting to share his gift with the world. Peter Krug, owner of  the oldest ironworks factory in the United States. His family’s work has graced Baltimore’s Washington Monument, Johns Hopkins University, and the Basilica of the Assumption.

Our challenge? To create and capture light. Shutter drag, long lens, and strobe flash were all considerations. And Peter was a gamer to play along.

The view from Peter’s studio. Right out front, smack in the middle of the city. That cute lil red number?  I’ll call it “the oooo . . . oooo . . . pick me!”  That’s my choice. Yep.

Neighborhood flava. That yellow wall just makes me smile from the inside out. Yeah, I love my quirky girl, Bmore.