contemplative photography Photo Journal ReFrame

Experiencing Doubts

I have been absent from writing regular posts—again. I think I wrote last week, but it has been more than a month since I’ve posted regularly. I doubted I had much to say. And I doubted myself as an artist. My work is kind of dull compared to others.

Yesterday and this morning, I think I know why I am in such a state of doubt. I spent an evening looking through a truly beautiful magazine, Digital Studio, published by Stampington and Co. It is a gorgeous magazine. I love their publications, Somerset Studio, Somerset Life, Art Journaling . I could spend a small fortune on subscriptions alone! Then I begin to compare my work to what I see, and I tell myself that I don’t measure up. And then I doubt myself.

I am working on shaking that mode. A wise friend told me yesterday that I should remember that my photography is for me and me alone and that I should not be concerned that others “don’t get it.” You know, that image that speaks only to me, like this one.


It is a perfect pinecone, for heaven’s sake. And it’s attached to the branch on which it grew, and there are still green needles at the end. And I could not resist taking the image. Beauty. To me. And a little bit of “apartness” and separation and perhaps “aloneness.” (Okay, I’m taking a page from Shakespeare: if he can make up works like fantastical, then why can’t I?)

And there are details to notice in the world, like this:untitled-19

Again it’s only a holly berry lying on the brown earth, but it’s a spot of unexpected color. So, I received this tiny moment as that point of unexpectedness, recorded it, and moved on.

We walked by the creek/stream that runs through Lynch’s Woods yesterday. I admit that I am a “water person,” drawn to water and can abide by water. And I noticed more details—rocks, water, algae, texture.


I listened to my wise friend’s advice and recorded the images that spoke to me. Near the end of the walk, we both spotted some lichen growing on the tree trunk:


Do you see it? There is a heart. And Madre Julie wrote to me on Facebook and said, “There is Love.” Someone understood. . . .

Tomorrow, I may face the demon doubt again and wonder if anyone understands what I’m trying to say through my art of photography. But for today, I will be content and know that at least one image has spoken and someone else “gets it.”

I will leave you with one more image of the blossoming of spring (and hope):untitled-55

By Olivia Fulmer

I am the OliviaIrene of OliviaIrene Photography. I am a photographer, a teacher, a story teller. I use this space to tell stories of life, family, and faith through words and images. I'd love to share your stories as well. Join me in this journey.

I love conversation, the close, intimate kind amongst friends. Won't you join me? I look forward to a good coze.

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