Missing Manhattan

the stench of something wafts to me.
i crinkle my nose.
i smile anyways. its truth in its own way.

i miss it.

freedom in the subway (time constraints and all).
bryant park. is beautiful.
buskers sing for dollars. hungry.
loving art, life, & song.
photoshooting, bravery and loneliness.
It's all the same.

i miss it.

there is love, pain and brokenness.
but it works. it's raw, it's real.
you can't be blind, when you see. (if you really look).

i miss it.

An Apology

In early 2007 I blogged about the cycles of anger. I was mostly referring to an incident that had happened with one of my closest college friends. Since that time her friendship and mine has started to crumble and over the last couple years I have missed her, fiercely. One of my favorite things about her, is her ability to say things like she feels it. ...the same thing I loved, is in part what broke us apart. Last summer, two and half years later, she came to me, she apologized. I wanted to cry right there. My heart was rejoicing - All I could think was, "I have my friend back!" I wonder why sometimes that's all we need. An acknowledgment saying "I'm sorry I hurt you." I also wonder why we even need that.
Our hearts are so fragile. We are human and sometimes I forget how intricately we are woven, how words and actions, really can hurt, do hurt - no matter how fiercely we try to fight it... I have goosebumps writing this: thinking about forgiveness and the power of an apology.

The Website is Live!

www.sherrimcleod.com

You Don't Believe in Miracles?

Two years ago my roommate at the time was in a really bad car accident. She was t-boned on the drivers size and pulled a block. She walked out of the accident injury-free. As she step out of the car, looked at her car and then down at herself, she yelled to the sky, "thank you, God." My friends mom, was supposed to die two years ago, I drove up to my friends place about a month ago, and her mom was unloading wood from the truck. Just a few afternoons ago, Haiti had a horrific earthquake. An old college friend of mine, her parents had just landed in Haiti to visit mission organizations they had been involved in. The entire extended family on her dads side, lives in Haiti - All of them, are alive.

In the Heat of the Summer

It's been awhile since I have thought of the sweet days of the summer of 2007. I have spent the last month searching through my archives looking for "new" old photographs to share with people, to be inspired by. Luckily, there were a few, but the ones of that summer took me back there. As I stare at the photographs I can almost feel the humid air.
There is something about that summer that inspired me like never before. My work was at its finest (in my opinion anyways) I crave to be back there, not to NYC, but to that place of inspiration, that place of almost naivete where my work was less followed. It was more personal, I was taking more risks. I allowed myself a sense of freedom, that I seem to have lost, or misplaced.

I will get there again.

*

I wrote Finding Place a few weeks ago. I have felt a lot of change in these past few weeks. In this time: I have met someone, ended whatever it was with that someone, I have planned a bachelorette for my best friend, realized that all my friends here are wed or to-be-wed, become content with being 30 and single, found a deeper connection to my photography, and most importantly, I have discovered home - at HOME! How odd. I spent 6 years gone, only to return. I am so excited to get re-involved in my life here. Re-discover my place. Me, in my hometown. They say you can't go home again. I say, whoever 'they' are - they were wrong.

Wandering: Finding Place

I am wandering, aimless in this life: a freeloader, living off of generous hands. I did not see this coming. I saw my dreams start unfold before my eyes, at the tips of my fingers... those dreams are gone, done, dissipated into oblivion. At least that's how it feels. A friend recently invited me to live with her, for a year in Cambodia. A part of me yearns for newness, for a place to be inspired. The other part craves stability, home and lifelong friendships. I left NYC in June with the intentions of an imminent return. It was not so. I am torn between two worlds right now...

I once lived in NYC, actually twice. And in those months, it stole my heart. I braved the summer and the winter. Braved the spring, but not the fall. I learned compassion, in a whole new way, I learned to see and breathe and sing...photographing all the beauty, the people and the place - I found a home. I fell in love and broke my heart. I skated round the pond in Bryant Park.

I conversed with a New Yorker friend online today. She spoke of being a quitter and hopes that in not quitting her most current endeavor that in the, end her experience, it will in turn, be fruitful Her revelation reminded me, that I too, am a quitter (have been a quitter). I fight with my desire to quit everyday. I know what it is.

More than goodbye, I hate to be vulnerable - exposed for the entire world to see. Intimacy is excruciating. I was thinking today as I looked down at a small sketch (I once drew) - I was startled by it, startled that it looked like something, that it was art. I think of myself as an artist in one form. I am a photographer. I get confused by it sometimes, and often wonder why I have no other, artistic tendencies. When I saw my sketch, I remembered the vulnerable moment I drew it in ... It's rare, those moments happen. But, It made me think of all that I could accomplish, if only I allowed them to happen.

I think, its there that NYC pulls at my heartstrings because far from home: I have to be vulnerable.

Tumblr

I have started a tumblr, most of my posts have been happening over there. I have actually been writing a lot over the last few years, tucking it away into the heart of my computer, never to be read. So I have decided, to clip samplings and put them out there for people to (hopefully) enjoy. That's whats going on, on my tumblr.

the personal files (excerpt, spring '08)

Photography snuck up on me, it picked me. It came so swiftly; there was no chance of denial. My talent became affirmed over and over. Almost like it wanted to teach me to believe again. I can see now, affirmation is my love language. When people tell me “Sherri, you can do it!” – That’s when I see it, feel it for certain in my heart that I really can. The night I was to leave, He and I, we sat upon his rooftop and we dined under the stars, talking for hours. It was bittersweet; I felt for the first time, he was vulnerable with me. The initial “obnoxious” guy was gone and we were two people who needed to talk, be with someone who cared enough to listen. As much as I needed someone to believe in me, he needed someone to care about him, for exactly who he was and not who people perceived him to be.

Small Yellow

When I was in NY, I found the perfect camera bag, but couldnt buy it at the time. I kept thinking about it and found it online. It's made by a designer who specializes in fashionable camera bags for woman. I am very excited. It's on my save-up-for, wish list! It's so pretty (and practical).

HOPE

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. Jeremiah 29:11-14