Well, I’m finally coming up for air after a particularly busy holiday season, and I have a ton of beautiful families to share! I struggled a bit with actually beginning to share sessions from fall. I’ve procrastinated putting my feelings into words for this post for weeks, but it’s time to just get it all out. The Woolsey fire ignited on November 8th, right smack dab in the midst of the usual crazy holiday session season. In photographer world, September – early December is usually a hectic time. Many families want to have memories documented for holiday cards, so naturally this becomes the busiest time of year. I live in Thousand Oaks, and that morning, November 8th, our community was shaken up by news of an absolutely tragic, senseless mass shooting at Borderline Bar and Grill. 12 lives were lost, and much of November 8th was spent holding loved ones just a little bit tighter, reminded that we are forever at the mercy of one another. We went to sleep that night with a pit in our stomachs, hearts aching for those who lost someone dear to them. A few short hours later, we were awoken by an emergency alert that our city was on fire. The blaze spread rapidly, forcing hundreds of thousands to evacuate and sadly, hundreds of homes were completely destroyed. We spent days glued to the news, completely dumbfounded once again by all the devastation and loss. Watching reporters show live footage of buildings and locations and roads we travel on every day, places we see all the time, totally engulfed in flames – it was absolutely surreal. I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like to lose absolutely everything you’ve worked for your entire life. My heart continues to ache for everyone affected by these disasters, and I remain incredibly grateful for and in awe of the many displays of heroism by first responders.

I had several sessions in my calendar for those days, including my yearly mini sessions, and of course, everything was put on hold. My wonderful clients kindly understood and patiently waited for me to regroup and organize new session dates. I knew that Paramount Ranch (the location I had planned for mini sessions) had sustained damage… and in the back of my mind I still didn’t fully comprehend the extent of the devastation. I assumed I would just use any number of my other favorite locations for the time being. I drove out one afternoon, several days later, to check on my locations and see where would be a good fit for the rest of my sessions for the season. I have to admit, in the spirit of full disclosure, that I felt very detached from the whole thing – my heart just wasn’t into picking up my camera and taking pictures. It felt vapid and silly to be worrying about pictures when there were actual huge problems in the world. Would my clients still even care or want to be photographed right now, after all this? Then something struck a chord with me – it was a post in my local mom’s group. Someone had asked for advice in the event of future emergencies/evacuations: What are the most critical, important things to grab when time is limited and you need to get out? Besides the obvious answers of family members and pets, a resounding response was pictures. Grab pictures. That’s what people reach for and value, that’s what they want to take with them. It made sense. Clothes can always be rebought. So can TVs, video games, plates… but those pictures are all we have of those moments in time. Those pictures are our link to the past, the way we can revisit old memories, access those feelings we had when our babies were small enough to fit into our hands, remember the smiles of loved ones that are no longer here with us. These are the things we may not think about day to day, but surely have a big place in our hearts. I once lost my phone at Union Station during one of my first sessions 8 years ago. I had to replace it, and what broke me wasn’t the fact that I had to shell out $500 for a new iPhone, or that I’d be inconvenienced for days without access to social media, or even that I could see that it was moving around Union Station on the find my iPhone map, surely in some lucky “finders keepers'” pocket (though admittedly, that enraged me to no end) – it killed me that I lost photos of my baby girl. Those were MY memories, MY photos. They belonged to me, and they were gone, never to be seen again. I’d have gladly handed over my phone to any crook with no questions asked, if he had just let me have the photos back. After reading that post, I realized that photographs have a bigger role for people than showing off on a holiday card, or bragging on social media. I felt a renewed sense of purpose for myself and my business and vowed to remind myself of this more.

But I digress. That afternoon, I was begrudgingly driving to my most prized location, Triunfo Creek Park, to see about moving the rest of my sessions there for the year. I figured the mountains in the distance would be charred. I wondered if clients would be annoyed since I did mini sessions there last year, and would be hoping for something different this year for variety’s sake. And then I stepped out of my car, and my mouth dropped. It. Was. Gone.

Just like that, my location, MY location, that I knew like the back of my hand, was ash. MY trees, that I knew exactly when and where to filter the setting sunlight through, that had surely been there for hundreds of years, were gone. MY bushes, that magically changed each season, with soft, white flowers in the spring, to deep, rust red in the fall, were GONE. MY log, my perfectly sized log that sat probably a hundred families as they snuggled and loved on their children for my lens, gone. All of a sudden this became incredibly personal. While I took ownership of my city when I heard its name on the news repeatedly over the past week, there was still this sense that I wasn’t personally affected, save for the need to reschedule some sessions. But this place, this magical location of mine that I didn’t stop to appreciate nearly enough while I had it, was now no more. I had my girls with me, and they each held my hands as tears welled in my eyes and we walked. What about the family of deer I once spotted here last year? What about all the animals? How can this be? I felt so selfish for thinking about myself and what this meant for me in this time, when others were suffering so much more. I suppose I can only describe it as my office burning down. Or my back yard. It was a place I came to often. I’d spent so much time there, awaiting my clients and just taking in the fresh air and scenery. I’d taken pictures of my kids here. I ran sessions like clockwork, knowing exactly where to be and when for the best light, the best scenery. LIFE was once here, and now it was no more.

Then came the realization that nearly ALL of my locations were unusable and destroyed or affected in some way. Triunfo Creek, Paramount Ranch, Peter Strauss Ranch, Wildwood, Hill Canyon, Malibu Creek, Corriganville… In the back of my mind I always figured I could take my sessions to the beach. Even my beach, El Matador, had burned and was closed indefinitely. How could this be? Selfishly, again, I marveled at what a cruel twist of nature this was.

I didn’t have much time to wallow in my sadness as I needed to find replacement locations for the 17 or so outdoor sessions I had left for the year. One of my good friends is also a photographer and she and I took some days to scout around, and luckily we realized this field that we passed by often, en route to our other locations, made for a perfect backdrop for pictures. I also took note of a park by a newborn clients’ house that also looked like it would be a great spot for pictures. Another sweet photographer friend also bounced some new fresh location ideas my way. It felt like I was a brand new photographer again, scouting and learning new spots. I could no longer rest on my laurels, those laurels were officially scorched. But suddenly I felt a renewed spirit and challenge. The most important element in photography for me is, well, first lighting, tied also with the connection of the subjects. Location is third. Always third. People aren’t choosing me to take their family’s pictures because I have this proprietary patch of land with a shnazzy tree – anyone can use these very same spots. It’s about bringing out that connection and love, translating it into a tangible, physical product (or, well, digital!).

I know things will grow again. Green has been sprouting up all over after the rain we’ve been getting. Some things will never be the same. I anticipate that I’ll have to gently remind future inquiries wanting certain specific locations that they no longer exist. But we’ll be OK. Life comes back around.

These images were taken just days apart, and in roughly the same spots, to show the difference. Mother nature, she’s a beast.

And my sweet location scouts, always eager to put a smile on my face with their antics.