Little Bit Her Little Bit Me

A Photo Collection Of Our Lives
The Market - Lydia xo

The Market - Lydia xo

These photos are difficult for me to post. Until this last year I’ve struggled with skin that wasn’t clear, I didn’t have the “glow,” and had insecurities about looking at myself in photos or a mirror. I always felt prettier than I thought I looked. In my mind’s eye, the person in the mirror, with the broken skin, the baggy, dark rimmed eyes and the nose that got red whenever I was frustrated or ate something warm, that wasn’t me. Clearly. I always asked myself “why can’t I be the outward beauty that I feel? Why can’t people see that instead of… this?!”

This has caused me to hide behind my camera, my art. I photograph other people. Prettier people. I don’t like being in front of a camera. My own, and especially never another photographer’s. I tell my clients “You’re gorgeous, don’t worry! You’re amazing.” I never lie. I simply tell them the truths they refuse to believe.

I struggled with these photos this morning, even though I’m better, even though my skin is more clear. Even though I KNOW where my value lies. I still struggle with how huge my pores are on my nose. I spent the greater part of an hour worriedly un-blemishing my nose.

Clearing me up.

Erasing me.

This is a lie.

I am beautiful.

No one else needs to see it (although they do), but I need to see it. I need to start seeing myself the way my husband sees me; drop-dead, all out, fucking sexy. Inside and out.

He uses words like “gorgeous, beautiful, ravishing, sexy.” He tells me I’m “brilliant, intelligent, clever, caring,” and “your heart is so big to help others.” He told me the other day that he will tell me I’m beautiful every day until I start believing him. He gently kissed me: “Then I’ll tell you twice a day.”

If I want my clients to believe me, I have to start believing what I’m selling. If I can’t trust him. If I can’t believe him. Who can I believe? He has tied himself to me, and I see the pain in his eyes when I shrug off his earnest compliments. It’s like I’m personally hurting him.

So here I am. Un-photoshopped, un-even skin, large pores, bump on my lip from plucking hair, unruly eyebrows, no makeup, and absolutely, 100% Lydia Gorgeous.

I will stop buying lies.

— xo Lydia

Snowy Series - Lydia

Snowy Series - Lydia

Snowy Series - Lydia

An Oldie but a Goodie: 1948 Chevy Convertible - Lydia

An Oldie but a Goodie: 1948 Chevy Convertible - Lydia

Number 10. I’ve always seen things a bit differently; askew. Like the hidden door that you can only see from the corner of your eye. I like shooting things from different angles, they give perspective. You don’t see this as just a building sign - now you see it as a color palate, a texture display, and the feeling of it almost running out the side of the photo begs you to follow; makes you itch.  - Lydia 

Number 10. I’ve always seen things a bit differently; askew. Like the hidden door that you can only see from the corner of your eye. I like shooting things from different angles, they give perspective. You don’t see this as just a building sign - now you see it as a color palate, a texture display, and the feeling of it almost running out the side of the photo begs you to follow; makes you itch.  - Lydia 

I’ve always loved the shape and feel of succulents. They remind me of my grandmother, she has planters upon planters of dozens of different sub species. Each one whispering to me to feel its petals - Lydia 

I’ve always loved the shape and feel of succulents. They remind me of my grandmother, she has planters upon planters of dozens of different sub species. Each one whispering to me to feel its petals - Lydia 

Mr. Bojangles
-Joy

Mr. Bojangles

-Joy

Doors have their own personality. They lead you places, they are seen and felt, they have weathered life. - Lydia 

Joel.
going through some older portraits of mine. one of my favorites. 
-Joy

Joel.

going through some older portraits of mine. one of my favorites. 

-Joy