On Windblown Hair and Being Human
I've been drawn back to this picture several times, though I'm not sure why. I like it, though it's not like the best picture ever taken, and I'm making a funny smile like I'm afraid my teeth will fall out if I open my lips.
I thought maybe it had to do with the fact that this is the first and probably last time that my hair has been photographed doing that windy, devil-may-care supermodel-in-front-of-a-fan thing, but I don't think that's really it either. (Though I do like the association.)
After thinking about it, it may be that it's one of the least self-conscious moments of my adult life that's been photographed. (At least that I know about. Yikes.) Anyway, I'm the type who freezes up when photographed, who becomes instantly enmeshed in a thought process: Should I tilt my head? Should I show teeth? Should I angle my hips just so?
I have been afraid most of my life of being called out as less than perfect, less than put together. I've wanted to be in control of how I look, what I say, how I present myself. This is not to say that I'm not fun or spontaneous--with the right people, I can be who I am, and let go those issues of control. This is, incidentally, how I knew Jason was the one. Not only did I feel great love and attraction for him, but I also felt instantly like myself when I was around him. Totally accepted.
Anyway, over the last 3 years, I've learned a lot about how to let go, and how to reveal myself to the world and not be afraid of what people will say. This had a lot to do with my MFA program and what I learned about writing.
For the first 3 semesters, I was so conscious of my audience, so painfully aware of their comments that I kept my writing under control. I wrote what I thought was intelligent, impressive, lyrical. And my writing skill was never doubted, really. What was under scrutiny was my ability to connect. To tell a story that became more than pretty words. To tell a story that was in and of itself a distillation of the experience of being human. I've come a long way, and while I still catch myself holding back sometimes, I'm much more able to be vulnerable--to be sick and hopeful, ugly and redeemed--to give myself over to the world and not be afraid to live in it.
I like this picture because I am in it. Of course, the windblown hair doesn't hurt either.
I thought maybe it had to do with the fact that this is the first and probably last time that my hair has been photographed doing that windy, devil-may-care supermodel-in-front-of-a-fan thing, but I don't think that's really it either. (Though I do like the association.)
After thinking about it, it may be that it's one of the least self-conscious moments of my adult life that's been photographed. (At least that I know about. Yikes.) Anyway, I'm the type who freezes up when photographed, who becomes instantly enmeshed in a thought process: Should I tilt my head? Should I show teeth? Should I angle my hips just so?
I have been afraid most of my life of being called out as less than perfect, less than put together. I've wanted to be in control of how I look, what I say, how I present myself. This is not to say that I'm not fun or spontaneous--with the right people, I can be who I am, and let go those issues of control. This is, incidentally, how I knew Jason was the one. Not only did I feel great love and attraction for him, but I also felt instantly like myself when I was around him. Totally accepted.
Anyway, over the last 3 years, I've learned a lot about how to let go, and how to reveal myself to the world and not be afraid of what people will say. This had a lot to do with my MFA program and what I learned about writing.
For the first 3 semesters, I was so conscious of my audience, so painfully aware of their comments that I kept my writing under control. I wrote what I thought was intelligent, impressive, lyrical. And my writing skill was never doubted, really. What was under scrutiny was my ability to connect. To tell a story that became more than pretty words. To tell a story that was in and of itself a distillation of the experience of being human. I've come a long way, and while I still catch myself holding back sometimes, I'm much more able to be vulnerable--to be sick and hopeful, ugly and redeemed--to give myself over to the world and not be afraid to live in it.
I like this picture because I am in it. Of course, the windblown hair doesn't hurt either.
posted by Tiffany Hamburger at
9:46 AM
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