What a week that was.
I took off for Portugal about 3 weeks ago and I’ve been working on putting all of the experiences and thoughts from that time into words. I’ve been home exactly a week and I’ve never unpacked my things faster, more eager to get to work on everything I’ve been thinking about because of Lisbon.
I was in Lisbon for a non-conference conference called the House of Beautiful Business. The House takes place for a week each year in Lisbon simultaneously with Web Summit. I spent a week volunteering and attending classes in both the Academy of Sciences and a renovated Bank, learning about the future of our business world and how we can make business more human centric and beautiful. But I took so much more from the House than just the knowledge and notes I took in the talks. You couldn’t go more than 5 minutes in the hallways or at reception, where I spent most of my work shifts, without getting into a good, intimate, or active conversation with someone. In those moments, I felt seen and heard and met where I am at. It doesn’t sound like such a novel thing, but I’ve been a very passive member of my life for a long time. It’s my default, to sit back and watch. And even as I’ve been working I think pretty successfully at changing that over the years, it’s still something that takes work. I gleaned some big insights and inspiration from every single conversation I had during and after the house.
We built a community in one short week, close quarters and for hours at a time leaning on each other and talking about real things which is why it was so hard for it to end. I felt like I was actually participating in my life and not watching it from the sidelines. It’s hard to leave knowing I’m going back to a place where I have a lot more work to do to get to a place where I want to be. And it’s not that I don’t love the life I’ve built so far, but it’s sitting with how still I’ve let myself become. It’s definitely possible now, but it’s hard and, selfishly, it’s easier if I could just stay in that dreamland a little longer.
My camera stayed packed until the last day because I wanted to stay more present without it. I had been sitting with one of my fellow volunteers and she asked if she could take some pictures of my on her phone because the moment felt right and my glasses fit in well with the bookshelf behind me. She did it again when my sweater matched the bright orange chair cushions. So on the last day, I wanted to take some pictures of her by the window. I had been building myself up all week, saying to others when asked about my work that I am a photographer and I can take pictures and feel professional doing it. So we took some in the light and then moved downstairs to a spot by the blue tiles she had been admiring. We showed them off to other volunteers and it led to more pictures of my new friends in the same place, shifting spots as the sunlight kept moving.
In such a short time, I began to feel so grateful for being able to meet people in this vulnerable way. It’s an uncomfortable thing to be in front of a camera lens if it’s not something you’re used to, I think to some people it feels like you’re being peeled apart a bit to see what’s deeper inside. Which is also like a lot of the experiences I think we all had over the week at the House - being opened up to something outside of our comfort level whether we were prepared for that or not.
I’ll hold on to these pictures, and the ones I took with friends in the week after the House, forever, because they mark a shift for me in feeling more able to take myself seriously as a photographer and, hopefully, having made my friends in front of the camera feel comfortable and open to something new. For the first time I felt professional in a way that was sustainable for me, like I was doing something I was good at and I was doing it well. On one of my photo dates, which I think is a great way to describe them for me because of the nerves I felt beforehand and the peace and excitement I felt afterwards, a friend asked why I do photography. And I’ve always felt a certain way about it but had never wanted to articulate it well enough until then.
I personally like to take photos because I want to remember sensations and feelings of places, not just the landmarks that remind you of where you’re at in the world. The way the seagulls fly over the water, people crossing the street with the signals or crossing behind cars in traffic, the way everyone is commuting from place to place all building up the way a place makes you feel even if in the moment you can’t see it. Day to day life can be monotonous, but it’s what makes up the majority of our lives and I want to remember how special it can be. I professionally want to take photos to help people see the world in that slower way, the subtle pieces of a person or a place that make them completely unique and something you can’t replicate. How often do we actually stop and look around every day. We commute, we work, we eat, we rest, we spend time with others, but at the end of the day we’re always spending time with ourselves. It’s really hard to remember that we are the sum of the parts around us: our work, our environment, our conversations.
Beautiful conversations can cause shifts in the way we approach our next moves. During the last day of the House, I was listening to Tim Leberecht talk about the 70+20+10 model for learning and development: how we learn 70% by just doing the thing, 20% by observing others doing the thing, and 10% by curriculum. We’ve all spent time immersed in curriculum to learn about something new. And we watch and observe others all the time, trying to see how those we admire got to where they are or see how someone does things differently than ourselves. But most likely we’ll get the farthest just by diving in and doing it. I’d love to revisit the pictures I’ve taken in Lisbon again and again to see how we all change, both the place and most importantly the people. Nothing has ever shaken me as much as this has, not just into dreaming but actually doing. And thank you to everyone who let me take their portrait, for being open with me. This is a love letter to everyone who was a part of this beautiful experience: before, during, and long after.
