Curating a Life
Curate (v.): to select (the best or most appropriate) especially for presentation, distribution, or publication —Merriam-Webster
Curate. What does it mean to “curate” our lives through images? Does it mean choosing the images that are the happiest, feature the best light and the most flattering angles, the most on-brand or aesthetically pleasing? What if the “best” simply means the “most me?”
For the past two years, I’ve been a part of a photography coaching/mentoring program rooted in a daily photography practice. In advance of celebrating the culmination of our 2022 365 projects, our group was invited to curate “a set of our most beloved images” with the parameters set between 20 and 200 images. Note beloved, not best.
A few months back, when I was thinking about how I might narrow down my images and settle on a common thread, I dubbed my 2022 collection “the noun project”—I would focus on the people, places, and things that brought me joy and defined me and my life for the prior 365 days. Today, I saw those nouns printed and put up on a wall, collected and gathered into a set of images that truly represent my beloveds—both the images and their subjects.
The subjects of my images range from the miniature worlds I’ve created and captured (the things), my family—my world—(the people), and the places and sights that stole my heart this year. There were other images that didn’t make my final cut, and there was one significant subject missing: my two sisters. When I realized I didn’t have a photo of just them this year, I was crushed. I had a few of the three of us, but I hadn’t taken those; I had handed off my camera so I could be in the frame. Yet, I didn’t have an image of the two women who bookend my life as my big sis and little sis.
My images represent a full heart and a deep calm. There’s a quiet and stillness to some images, a playfulness to others. There is the simple and uncomplicated, the minimal, and the beautiful. There is me.
As I played with the order, I thought about the groupings: the people, places, and things. Then I played with subjects: light, peace, love. I added a few images into the final set. I subtracted others. With each move, I was getting closer and closer to the core of who I am, what I love, what I live for—my essentials. Are there people and subjects missing? Yes. After all, these photos represent 2022, and life does not yet feel back to “normal.” My hope is that it someday will be—or, perhaps a new, even better version of before.
When our group arrived this morning to begin our day together, before we even began to look at or discuss our photographs, we talked about what brought us to this gathering and what we hoped to leave with. For me: friendship, clarity, vision. Then, we pulled a card from Gabrielle Bernstein’s The Universe Has Your Back deck, and mine was an apt reminder. Little did I know that once my curated set of images were up on the wall, I would see both reflected back—my words and my card. Synchronicity. Truth. The proof of a life.
