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Why it has taken me over four months to write and reflect on the global pandemic in which we find ourselves, I cannot tell you. If anything, as we have all withdrawn into our own homes and isolated minds, we are swimming in thoughts – or, should I say, drowning in them. It should feel cathartic to write some of it down. So why haven’t I been able to do it? Well, there are a hundred different reasons and excuses – I have been busy and not busy at all. I have had too much on my mind, and cannot think clearly. The paradoxes and challenges are COVID-specific, and while I feel I have been processing them, to write them all down is an entirely different – and difficult – thing.

In the early weeks of the pandemic, with no work on the horizon, I applied for endless grants and financial aid. The one thing that came through was a grant from the Albuquerque Creatives DIY Media Project. I had proposed collecting interviews from artists in my community, so I could gather their accounts on how they were weathering the pandemic. By doing the interviews remotely through online zoom rooms, they could serve as modern-day oral histories, a record for posterity of how we existed and persisted in these times. I wanted to hear how other people were thinking and feeling, how they were confronting the psychological challenges accompanying a global pandemic, the likes of which no one had experienced in our lifetime. I arranged to interview 20 artists, some of whom were already friends, but many of whom I met for the first time through my computer screen. It was powerful. We conversed. We shared. We cried. People were so open and candid, so emotionally vulnerable – just raw. And while probably the least visible project I have created in terms of an audience, its internal rewards were many. Its nourishment in the first chapter of COVID was palpable. It made me feel grateful to live in a place so entrenched in community, in a city whose administration is looking out for its people, specifically for its creatives. And although we were physically isolated in our self-quarantines, I felt anything but alone. I was enveloped in conversation with my community, and I felt a new collective consciousness emerging from the darkness of the pandemic. These interviews got me through the first month of COVID – financially, emotionally, and from a place of productivity.

As soon as the reality of COVID sunk in (that we were facing a long-term crisis with no end in sight), to my surprise, the work began pouring in as well. People realized they were going to need online content – video content – for our new virtual existence. They needed material now. Immediately. And I desperately needed the work. What took some convincing was that I actually wanted the work – just how to navigate these new environments, how to proceed safely during a raging pandemic, had me confronting my own fears and risk-averse nature. But, after negotiating my anxiety, it occurred to me I am in an ideal situation – as someone who mostly operates as a one-woman outfit, I know I can rely on myself to be cautious. I know I will always put safety at the forefront. I can pick and choose which situations I feel comfortable in, and I get to decide when to say “no, thank you.” I recognize it is a privilege. It became empowering and reassuring. I found projects I could dig my teeth into safely. Not only was I earning income, but I was working on projects capturing the weight, urgency, and complexity of our times. Projects where I forged new partnerships, while also embarking on new initiatives with longstanding collaborators and friends. Once again, I felt the connectivity within my community, and again, I felt grateful.

As we continue to move through the seasons of 2020, and deeper into the pandemic, I must admit, I find it increasingly difficult to stay positive. As I write this, we have gone from state mandated stay-at-home orders, to the reopening phase of the pandemic. Truthfully, I felt like I handled the hibernation chapter far better. The introvert in me didn’t mind being sequestered to my home with my dogs and Steve. But now, even within the walls of my home sanctuary, we are officially in the dog days of summer. And as the temperatures rise, so does the polarization of our country. Even from the isolation of my home, the chaos and injustices occurring in the outer world are pervasive. It’s no secret – we are in a pressure cooker, and COVID only amplifies it. It is a continuous battle to digest the news and still have a positive outlook, to believe humans are capable of being and doing better. As we fail to adapt to the new normal, it feels as if we are moving through the stages of grief, our behavior moving from denial into anger, and now bargaining, as we look to the opening of schools in the fall. And even as I pacify my own mind, there is no negotiating what is going on outside it. I remind myself to stay grateful, for I am fortunate this devastating virus has not impacted me directly, and my family and loved ones are healthy. I am fortunate to live in a lovely home, with ample outdoor space, under the shade of trees aflutter with birdsong. I am fortunate to have a partner who cooks indulgent meals for us (with fewer trips to the store), and despite the inevitable strain from sharing our home workspace, still cares for me. I am eternally grateful for my three dogs whose companionship allows me to greet each day from a place of love, and who will always be my best therapy. At the end of the day, I am lucky to have a home where I not only feel safe, but it is where I prefer to spend my time. And when I do leave my personal sanctuary to go to work, I am inspired not just by the people I am filming, but those I am working alongside. And the happenstance encounters in between with strangers, remind me there is hope in humanity. I have yet to come home from a shoot where my outlook wasn’t better than when I left.

And for me, that is what life in the time of COVID holds – it is a daily practice in gratitude, and knowing physical distancing is not an obstacle to true connection. And while we must stay vigilant and confront the problems plaguing our society, we will only have the reserve to take those on by staying grounded within ourselves, and staying connected to one another.

In the days of COVID, there are so many lessons, if only we choose to sit with them a while.

This weekend marks my 10 year anniversary being back in New Mexico. Over the years, I have learned a few things:

It has taken an equal amount of grit, but more ingenuity, to find my footing here compared to other cities I have called home (here’s looking at you, Chicago and NYC).

Vast amounts of sunshine and wide open skies are not just good for my soul, they are necessary.

You find your tribe wherever you plant yourself, and I am fortunate for the community I have found here - people who are as exceptional and magnetic as the land we live on. There are endless pros on the list to making this place your home, but the cons are downright pervasive, and it takes people who are solid to the core to stick it out and make a life here. And I love you all.

Quality of life is the only way of life.

Having a home with outdoor space and room enough for three crazy dogs can be a reality.

Worker bee culture does not fly here. The ‘Land of Mañana’ is real. And there are positives and negatives to both.

I will forever miss having the ocean twenty minutes away by bike, and life would be better if the ABQ Sunport had more direct and affordable flight options.

Moving back to your hometown is not as easy as you would think. Not that I really thought it would be easy.

Everything everyone says about the light is true. And it is reason all by itself to live here.

When the rest of the world seems out of its mind, this place maintains a sense of peace and somehow makes sense (to me). Maybe because it is in a constant state of contradictions. Still trying to figure this out.

I have found the greatest loves of my life here: they have two legs and four legs; some have two eyes, some have only one eye. Most of you should know what this means.

The reasons I found for moving back are the same reasons I have stayed.

The reasons I left this town in the first place are still ever-present.

Home is home. And I am very fortunate to have the life I do in this aptly named Land of Enchantment.

Thanks to my friend, Robert, who kept me company and took shifts driving the truck to get me here.

Here it is, the day before my birthday, and as I move into another year around the sun, I find myself learning how to ride the ebb and flow of aging – and having my own business – with a little more grace.

Although spring allergies and an overabundance of decadent food (and sugar) on Easter have me feeling sluggish, the overwhelming sentiment I am experiencing today is gratitude. The pace of work has been slower over the last few weeks, which can cause a tinge of anxiety (if I let it), but with the right perspective, I recognize how a slower schedule allows for prolonged quiet mornings on the patio in which I am able to savor my French Roast before attending to emails, versus gulping it down and frantically typing at the same time. I can appreciate the break in the middle of the day when I can take the dogs for a walk around the neighborhood, instead of scarfing down my lunch at my desk while plowing through an edit.

Time feels more manageable and relaxed. Experience has taught me to enjoy this while it lasts. And not let the anxiety of the quiet override the joy that accompanies it.

Over the last couple of months I have been planting seeds – literally and metaphorically. My partner and I have San Marzano tomatoes, artichokes, and sugar snap peas sprouting through the soil in our greenhouse in back, while projects I have been developing for work are also taking root. Ideas that spent the winter months percolating are now materializing on camera. Things are taking shape. And although some projects are still struggling to find their footing, they have momentum. We just need to keep plugging away. Do the work. Stay the course.

It’s all part of the process. It is the nature of the ebb and flow. And I am embracing it. Because spring is in the air, and optimism not only feels seasonally appropriate – it feels right.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I took a cue from an inspiring artist (and friend) I had the pleasure of filming – Nina Elder – who drew up a brilliant “incomplete” list of her many loves for Valentine’s Day. So here’s the start to my list, but for the purposes of this blog, it is dedicated to the things I love about my chosen field:

The people. The content. Prospects. Collaborating. Listening. Drafting interview questions. Filming in a stunning location. Getting a great shot. Beauty. Inspiring subjects. Working with a great crew. Friendships. Wrapping a shoot. Process. Getting lost in the edit. Finding my way in the edit. Shop talk. Sharing. Research. Spending an immense amount of time in my own head. Creativity. Storytelling. Working under pressure. Overcoming writer’s block. Meeting deadlines. The exhale once they’ve been met. The balance of planning and improvisation. Making my own schedule. Turning out a great product. Feedback. Troubleshooting. Funding. Making it work.  Executing.  Pleasing clients. Return clients. Learning curves. Constant stimulation. Affirmation. The words “thank you.” All the emotions.

Having my mind blown all the time.

The moment when everything falls into place.

Not being able to imagine doing anything else.

With the beginning of a new year, it’s the season for setting resolutions. I have steered away from resolutions in the past for several reasons. For one, what may seem like a priority in January may not feel as relevant further into the year. Not to mention the possibility for failure, or disappointment with oneself rather, for not upholding to the goals set in a New Year’s plan. But there’s no escaping my annual internal dilemma of whether or not to set a resolution, and what visualizing an intention could mean in facing the prospects of a new year.

After making it through the mayhem of the holidays, and settling back into my day-to-day routine, I find myself warming up to the notion of this ritual, though. Yesterday, as I pulled out my new 2018 annual planner and set about making color-coded lists and appointments for upcoming projects, I began to think about the tasks I would assign myself under the mission “Resolution.”  I do love making checklists and accomplishing the tasks that comprise them, so shouldn’t I find the same satisfaction in completing tasks associated with my New Years’ resolution? What would be a fitting resolution for FRAME+WORK? What needs attention? What could use more of my time? Where could I do better?

If there is an area of my business which has slid through the cracks, it would be this blog. After all, it is not a necessary item of business. There are no clients, deadlines, or tangible demands – other than to myself – that need to be met. Which is why it has fallen to the bottom of the priority pile. In considering this, it becomes apparently clear to me the blog is representative of other areas of my personal life, reflecting the myriad of ways I put my self-care on the back burner when I become overwhelmed with work. The blog is akin to the walks I have not taken at the end of the workday, or the books still waiting to be read as I settle into bed at a reasonable hour. It is the mental exercise of which I have deprived myself, just as I have the physical visits to the gym or hikes in the foothills when things get hectic. It is one more thing I need to fit into the 24hr day, if only for me alone. And sometimes – let’s face it, oftentimes – I forget myself in the scheme of things.

I also put unrealistic expectations on the blog – the same way I am too ambitious when I finally get back on my bike. Not every entry is going to be eloquent and poetic, just as every ride will not be my strongest and fastest. And I need to be okay with that. It is meant to be an exercise. An outlet. Not a published piece of prose. I need to remind myself it’s not just about the end product, but the process. And I love process, so why not honor that in the blog as I would in my other work?

After a fair amount of pondering these questions and too much time on the fence, I am resolute in my decision to set my intention for 2018. Given it is a commitment to the process, it feels like one I can get on board with and genuinely feel excited about: so, here’s to more blogging, more walking, more reading, and carving out more time in the day. And here’s to feeling happier because of it.

Today is the birthday of someone whom I only met recently. She is one of those people you know from the moment you meet them, they are going to have an impact on your life. Where the encounter holds the promise of transforming your mind and soul. This was my experience with Judy Tuwaletstiwa.

Judy is one of the artists I am profiling for a video series for Tamarind Institute, and we met prior to filming back in December. For me, those winter months were the eve of a major life transition – I would be leaving my job to embark on a new path in revamping my company. Change was afoot. But not just for me. We were being ushered into a time of somber uncertainty in a political climate causing great unrest and distress. But in talking with Judy, a flicker of possibility and the warmth of assurance made its way through the shadows. 

Our meeting, in Judy’s words, felt very auspicious.

You cannot have a casual conversation with Judy. You are immediately pulled into the depths of a meaningful and enlightening exchange, where multiple portals are opened.  Her wisdom is illuminating and nurturing. She is a sage, and in her presence, you have hope.

All of this, and she is an incredible artist. I am fascinated by her work, her process. Filming her has been the highest honor. Having her show enthusiasm for my process would probably be the second highest honor. To be enveloped by so much positivity and support should be more commonplace. We would all be better off. I am so fortunate to be surrounded by it now.

Every now and then, people enter your life, and you get the sense bigger forces are at play. That is how it feels with Judy. But then again, Judy is a powerful force all on her own. And today I celebrate her.

A time of transition, while starting anew, is also a time for reflection. And with the excitement of re-launching my business, also comes nostalgia for what came before. As a freelancer, I've had the privilege of working with a wide range of people in countless scenarios. Regardless of the team, the client, the network, at the heart of the work were the people who shared their stories with us, and the places that embraced us as brief visitors, often accepting us as family.

At the end of the day, that which made it into the final cut of video – while certainly the best content serving the mission of the project – was by no means the whole story. Lingering memories and life lessons, not to mention new friendships, were the unforeseen takeaways. These moments and individuals left as much an imprint on me as what was captured on camera.

Anyone who works in documentary will tell you, the work allows you to be a virtual tourist, acquiring insight into an array of topics and becoming the ear to many stories. And for the last three years, in producing the series New Mexico True Television, I also became a tourist in the literal sense, traveling to destinations throughout my home state. The work, accompanied by the travel, was a journey in every sense of the word. 

A very dear, and incredibly wise, family friend once said – quite adamantly – that I should write a book recounting my experiences on the road, so that I may share the stories of the people and places I had come to know in my travels here in New Mexico. The untold, off-camera material. My personal take. And while I may not feel ambitious enough to take on that pursuit, I thought a blog would be a decent attempt at writing some of these memories down and preserving them. 

So this blog is in honor of those moments, those people, those lessons. A time to reflect and wax poetic a bit, and glean even more perspective as I enter this new chapter of FRAME+WORK.

In doing so, I hope to honor the memory of my beloved friend, who inspired me to put it all in black and white.