Repost: A picture is worth a thousand words
The following is the...transcript, if you will, of a post I wrote for the Grow Appalachia blog last week. I went a bit "op ed" and used the metaphor of a camera and photographs as a catalyst to progress, change, stories, and the work I've been doing so far. I love being able to stretch my creative wings every now and then, and I can only thank God for the reception that it has received- word on the street is that it'll be making its way to the CEO of the Corporation for National and Community Service! In short, I am blessed. I thank God every day for what I have, and if I don't, then I need to.
What kind of stories are you preserving through the pictures...and memories...in your life?
When I think about the pictures from the past year, I see purpose. Potential. Progress. A love of the land. The desire to do more and to be more. Raw, unfiltered, natural beauty. A movement enabling Appalachians to become catalysts for change in their communities. A legacy of generations passing down the quest for homegrown food for as many as possible.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But sometimes, they can be worth so much more.
For the original link, and the rest of the pictures (the one below is my favorite) you can find it on the Grow website.
What kind of stories are you preserving through the pictures...and memories...in your life?
Greetings, Grow Appalachians! Holly, VISTA at Grow HQ here, and I’m going a bit “Op-Ed” today.
Recently, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about pictures. This could be
due to a little something I’m putting together for our gathering next
month. It could even be that I’m inspired by my fellow VISTA and his
creative approach to a project he’s been working diligently on.
Whatever the reason, it goes without saying that pictures are pretty
impossible to miss in today’s day and age. We have them framed in our
homes, hanging on our walls and gracing our coffee tables. We have them
on display on our computer desktops. We’ve used up almost all our
memory on our wireless devices, becoming a generation of freelance
mobile photographers. We flood our social media sites with snapshots of
our faces, our pets, our children, and even our food. But what I love
most about pictures, especially when I consider the work I’ve been a
part of for the past four months, is that behind each picture, behind
each shutter of the lens, there is a story.
Last week, I spent a couple of days going through the collection of 2014
Grow Appalachia blogs. While reading the extensive archive of posts,
sometimes I laughed, but mostly I was wholeheartedly inspired by the
words I read. What further propelled my inspiration was that some of
the pictures accompanying these words were simply stunning- snapshots
showcasing their own stories, all woven together into a tapestry of a
collective of like-minded people and places striving to make this part
of the world we occupy just a little better.
When I think about the pictures from the past year, I see purpose. Potential. Progress. A love of the land. The desire to do more and to be more. Raw, unfiltered, natural beauty. A movement enabling Appalachians to become catalysts for change in their communities. A legacy of generations passing down the quest for homegrown food for as many as possible.
I first came to Grow Appalachia with, surprisingly, very few
expectations- and I don’t mean that in a negative way. When you become a
VISTA, you’re trained in many skill areas, and you may exercise one or
all of them in your service year. Also, VISTA is not a “one size fits
all” experience, and what I do here in Berea in Madison County is vastly
different than, say, what another VISTA in Whitesburg in Letcher County
does. I certainly didn’t imagine that I would be chronicling my
experiences and disseminating information through the lens of a camera
or through the blogosphere. Not that I mind; even though I hold a
Bachelor’s degree in Biology, I’ve always channeled an inner creative
itch that demands to be scratched from time to time. But now that it’s
become such an integral component of my VISTAness, it’s almost
second-nature. When Mark and I arrive on site for a tunnel build, I
fall into a sort of routine, almost a mantra, in preparing the camera:
Remove from case, and expose to the outside world. Assemble- twist until
you hear the click. Lens cap, off. Focus. Capture. And then I am a
part of the camera, ready to continue the task of not only hearing
stories, but, almost inadvertently, becoming a part of them.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But sometimes, they can be worth so much more.
For the original link, and the rest of the pictures (the one below is my favorite) you can find it on the Grow website.
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