for every thought, a river of competing possibilities. for every wish, a doubt to its fruition. i am in pixie vision’s 7 year itch.
i have accomplished what i set out to do… what started out as rebellion to see if it was even possible to sustain myself without a desk and a boss, has exceeded all my dreams. i want to shake this up. i crave opportunities as windows to leap through, something in my peripheral that is not yet standing naked before me. the problem is that i don’t know how to form the question that gets me there.
time has told me to put one foot in front of the other and to trust my passion to be met with opportunity… but what if there was a better way to success? one where an agent found me work, one where my photos represented music i believe in, or at the very least one big lucrative gig that allowed me to coast for months writing or traveling, writing my books.
who can i trust to have my books published? i hoard my life work as if in the front of my t-shirt and call it mine… but much of it belongs out in the world, to it affect at least one person somewhere. and gallery shows and stock agencies… is there really any money in it? seems i am happiest in the one-on-one, in my sandbox in various towns throughout the nation , with a beautiful girl that doesn’t yet think so, making something from nothing, like alchemy. the direct connection, the boldness, the sharing. i live for that feeling…. but sometimes it overwhelms me.
i want my work to belong more to the world on a larger scale now. to trust more, relinquish control once i find the right team, find the neon crossroads of success, the one that embodies present and future… & have it all make sense. advice is a blur, a foreign language. instinct my only guide.
i am famous now… but not rich. i am recognized at target buying tampons, sent the most amazing emails on how i’ve changed people’s lives. i am mentoring 15 budding photographers & need to wear wigs out to parties to truly enjoy them, where i don’t have to *be* pixie or ask that my photo not be taken. this lifestyle, once intentional, now causes me to build walls, even retreat. i spend much of my free time in nature. i sit in trees. i run on mountain trails. i spend time one-on-one with friends under my lemon tree. crowds overwhelm me. i don’t do photography for social acceptance anymore…
my friends are my family. they get me. inspiring, quirky, full of love, openness. i am grateful for their insight and support. i first moved to los angeles in 2003. it was only when i saw a community of thriving artists that i even thought this way of life was possible. i was raised differently. the daughter of an accountant, i was taught to always know where the money was coming from, to not leave it to chance. this bohemian lifestyle was always within me and, at points in my life diminished entirely. i was always drawn to the counter culture but lived in the middle east for a few years, tried to conform to the norms of that society. i was withheld in all creativity and in every way to such a degree that when i finally escaped, it was like a rubber band. i snapped & put blinders on to my true self. lucky to find someone whose art comes first as well, someone who made me laugh and understood me in all my faerie ways, in all my quirky ways, in all my east coast upbringing. someone who wouldn’t dim my light. i will not get married again. i will not have children. i might not even own a home…. but i will express and affect. i will live my own true way and i will live it brightly,sparking off people in this life that inspire me, like the candles in the sky the day i was born, the fourth of july….
what i have learned in these past 7 years… is that it is possible to strip away the expectation of others. it is possible to live out loud and not just reserve it for the weekends. to work in your pajamas, to have introspective life-altering conversations with strangers and never ask their name or profession, to take judgment off the table and just be spiritually porous. in many ways, it all doesn’t matter. all that’s left is how we make each other feel, if we lived our true purpose, the one we agreed upon before coming here, that we realize we are not just self-contained hard marbles clanging into each other for the noise of it, asking ‘how are you?’ and not waiting for the answer. i must remember this as thoughts get tangled, as i itch with time and its pestering.
i am now caught up. all my edits are done, my model releases in 3-ring binders, scanned in, my receipts taped to 8×10 pages. the corner of my garage marked ‘someday’ is now for sale on ebay. old worn clothes donated and all is functional in every crevice of my home, old vhs tapes digitized and posted on youtube. all of this healing, necessary, to merge all my lives into one. to have no veil as to my past or present. to be whole.
i turn now to face the ‘what’s next?’ faeries. they grin silent and then tell me to go to the library tomorrow, to research, to trust, but not blindly. they wouldn’t dare ask me to be patient. they know me better than that…