Dreaming on the fly.

I know myself to dream on the fly. Last year around the first of May I imagined a beautiful orchard shoot with a big dress and one of my gorgeous friends as a model. To my dismay, when I called the orchard owner to ask if I could take pictures there, he replied I could... but I missed the blossoms by about two weeks.

48 weeks went by and I called him again. He again agreed and this time the peach and apple trees were in full bloom. It was like imagination ecstasy. I quickly recruited a friend, ordered a beautiful golden corset, and put together a huge tulle skirt.

But.

Unbeknownst to me, the corset was coming from China. To my knowledge it's still not stateside. I wasn't going to let it deter me. This shoot was not going to not happen this year. So I spent an entire day visiting every lingerie and thrift store in my area and I found a whole pile of nothing. My only option was my friend's corset that she forgot she even had. It wasn't the golden satiny goodness of the Chinese corset. It was better. It was soft pink and lacey. Oh, how I love lace. I plan on posting a tutorial of how I made the skirt.

Brittany was such a trooper. It was 40 degrees and 15-20 mph winds. Here are the fruits of our labor.

  

I am a photographer.

Hi, my name is Shealyn.

This whole crazy journey that I'm on now started almost a year ago. Late one night I was roaming the internet like I always do and I stumbled upon Aperture Academy's website. As I started clicking around, my heart rate quickened. I'm sure my eyes dilated. I may not have remembered to breathe. After the initial shock was over I could feel an overwhelming rush of excitement, hope, and uncertainty. Was I daring to dream that I could actually do what I truly wanted to do but had always denied it in my heart because of everyone's voices telling me "photography doesn't make money" or "it's too competitive"? Could it be possible that my two greatest passions in the entire world (travel and photography) were attainable?

Of course it was. It was staring at me in the form of a black website, white words, and gorgeous pictures.

It had finally sparked something in me. I was no longer floating. I beamed at the idea of not being an underappreciated waitress for the rest of my life. I had a goal. I had something I finally, truly wanted. In fact, recalling that evening right now, still makes me feel giddy inside. Ever since that fateful night in April 2012 I have transformed into a sponge. I have absorbed every bit of knowledge I could get my eyes on. I've gravitated towards the "Photography" section of every bookstore I've entered. I've bought some of the most compelling books. I've YouTubed the hell out of photography tutorials. I've discovered my idols: Sue Bryce, Marcus Bell, Bambi Cantrell, among many others. My default smartphone activity became browsing new photographers and techniques. I've shadowed photographers in my area. I've watched, perhaps a little too intently, other professional photographers at weddings and other outings. I've bought into workshops and courses. I've driven two hours, exhausted after a long night of work, to be part of free workshops the next morning. I've researched new pieces of camera equipment like it was a life and death decision. I've recruited friends and family to be my guinea pi-- I mean models. I've seen thousands upon thousands of photographs. I've numbed my brain and my hand with marketing ideas. And now I'm finally sticking my neck out of there and yelling to the world:

I am a photographer.  I believe in the beauty and healing power of capturing precious slices of time into something tangible; something real. This is my passion. This is where my entire life has led me to be. I am no longer listening to the "no" inside my head.