A little unexpected magic in the morning. One that I DELIBERATELY make.
When I go into my car trunk, I bring out my tiny bubble wand: a battery operated summer toy fan that blows bubbles instead of the ‘old school’ method of waving it around (technology!)
I blow bubbles over my car, my environment. I stand and twirl in them. I fill the street so you see them. And like bubbles do, they’re gone. just like that.
I have my Five Fairy Minutes and I pack it all away.
A few minutes for my grown up person to honor what my little kid inside likes: seeing bubbles whenever she wants. A moment to indulge in her love of prettiness and beauty.
And to carry along the means to make them whenever and wherever she wants.
To BE part of the morning magic as well as see it.
Dorothy Perry senses beauty and daily joy in her photography and portrait work.
The black and white version of the Chicago Reader weekly (the one printed with the ink that stained your fingers) was the apex of creative photography in the 90’s for those who loved photojournalism.
I was an editorial assistant at the Reader, greeting visitors, opening the mail, and occasionally taking assignments to the studios of the artists who worked for them.
It began as a small idea, but slowly the picture emerged. Though I was only an amateur at that time with no real experience, I began to want to be a photojournalist for the Reader.
For the first time in my young life, I began to feel the inner fire of my own dreams, illuminating my next steps and decisions. Yep, they did not pay very much, but there were benefits.
You were treated as a real photographer, not a ‘picture taker.’
There was more creativity and freedom to take time with your assignment.
The assignments covered unique, quirky people, fascinating local businesses, and interesting places.
Editors did not crop our submitted photos, and images were published at a luscious size.
Shooting for the Reader opened doors to other opportunities.
In reality, starting from real beginner status was a little harder. I hadn’t gone to photography school or worked for any photographers to learn the business.
I had just taken a couple of classes but I had gone to upstate New York to study with the eyes and soul of the Village Voice, Sylvia Plachy, and had a mentor in the deep emotional style of photography I desired.
My portfolio was submitted again and again…and again. Time after time, I would climb the long set of stairs to the office to pick up the portfolio case (if they already had it at the reception desk it meant better luck next time) smiling and saying, “I’ll be back.”
In reality, the learning curve was like a rollercoaster…those massive wooden structures that are made for the apprehension effect, the deep stomach drops, and screaming feelings of exhilaration.
Afterwards, I’d put my heart back inside my chest, pick up my cameras, and pick up my spirits. I still worked there, so there were some quiet, awkward passages in the hallways, but it just fortified my desire that art director Bob McCamant choose me for assignments as a Reader freelancer.
In about two years, and getting experience with other papers including the Chicago Defender, I got a call to see if I was available, and my first assignment.
Over the five years I shot with the Reader, I worked both as a photographer and as anillustrator, including a collage that made the cover.
It pleased and encouraged me to see that I could write and scope out my own stories and had a photo essay published on the local bike club, whose ornate, decorated vintage cruisers were a unique part of parades and local social entertainment.
And yes, even though I did not earn a lot of money, I L O V E D that job,
even as my own personal life moved me into my next creative timeline as a family and wedding photojournalist. All still in black and white film.
Flash forward twenty-five years: In the process of searching for information for my website rebranding on the Wayback Machine,
I discovered that none of my photographs were included within the Reader’s archives online. Whether for size or intellectual property reasons, no images accompanied the articles. None of them. Even my photo essay only appeared in text.
It seemed so surreal to me that all my experience and history with them now reads, “Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Dorothy Perry.”
The internet is forever – but with an asterisk. Not when your artwork doesn’t accompany the journey into the new format.
I took it hard for a while, but with an exercise to describe and tell the story again and again more playful and spontaneous until I could speak of it without the emotional upset stomach feeling in it, without feeling I had lost something: it happened.
It happened that my work was published in one of the best newspapers in the city.
It happenedthat I found my skill for creating portraits and photo stories by quickly assessing and adapting what I found on location.
It happened that I learned how to travel Chicago’s different streets and neighborhoods, organize time, work successfully with different types of personalities, and meet tight publishing deadlines.
It happened that I gained skills of working quickly and decisively in the moment that improved me as a photographer and a creative person.
Though “Photos/Dorothy Perry” was all that was left of the experience,
it happened that I succeeded in the first real goal that I chose for myself.
This is my comfort, as I plan my next big dream going forward.
Dorothy Perry photographs families and personal events; contact her here.
One of the most read posts I sent out on my WooWay personal newsletter mailing, called The Internet is Forever (Asterix) involved dealing with loss of the photographs I took for the Chicago Reader when the newspaper issues were digitized.
I just published this article on my main blog site.
In this, I wrote about my discovery that examples of my early photography career with the Chicago Reader were no longer visible in their online archives…anywhere.
Due to size or intellectual property issues, they imported the articles, but did not include the photographs from earlier editions of the paper.
The email started with dealing with the reality of the situation – but at the end* celebrated the various soft and hard skills learned with the experience.
Fast forward nine months, and through the wonders of Instagram, I get a ‘ping’ from an artist group I photographed in 1992, updated in a Gossip Wolf column. (the article here.)
After I did a quiet appreciative happy dance, I decided to update the story. In addition to the pleasant surprise in being led to one of my photos, it was also a little reminder to me to give life’s irritations or obsessions up to the body’s wisdom, and let things happen as they will.
*Looking with the attitude that there is nothing to panic about or ‘fix’ is a mindset that allows for quiet personal wonder, delight, and awe, even within an ordinary day.
I found that by not fighting and resisting and replaying the memories accompanied by emotions that would suddenly float in and make themselves felt, they changed or would leave by themselves. No examining or selecting anything for further review, I stayed present with no judgement as to what came up, and it would just evaporate.
Practice presence in all different types of situations to have the grounded feeling of being inside your body. Feel the heat through your fingers, feel your toes against the floor, use your senses. Even if at times you conduct your day on autopilot, make time to connect with yourself through the day.
I invite you to subscribe to my newsletter for intuitive counterintuitive strategies to help sense the world around you at your best. The sign-up link is here. I look forward to meeting you there.
Dorothy Perry is a Chicago photographer of peoples’ personal lives and celebrations. Contact her at perryportraitart@gmail.com or here. Thank you.
Many people depend on others to document their speaking and pictures next to their artwork in social receptions. “Do you want me to take your picture?” I hear often.
Some even ask me if they can use MY camera to take it!
But I smile and decline because I know how they are going to look, simple as that.
What diva-adjacent behavior I exhibit is largely around attempts to take my photos
in candid social situations, usually with very little notice or preparation.
My mouth and eyes are both lively and mobile and moving at different times,
and from experience sitting for and seeing photographs from others,
in all honesty, I will be polite, but I won’t like the picture you just took of me.
It has even happened with someone taking my photo for an award I won:
I didn’t ask to see them (it’s not good manners),
but the short shoot did not inspire confidence: they’re photos for the archives only.
I am grateful for the viewer sending me a picture of me during my reception,
catching a composition made with a view of my artwork,
but seeing that this image also has my face moving, mid thought,
reminds me in one shot that I have the right
to curate my vision and visual the way I want them,
especially with public images of myself.
Dorothy is a Chicago portrait and lifestyle photographer following her energetic eyes through her world. Buy artwork or hire her creativity through her Contact Page.
Dancing is not so regimented, ruled, or only for official dancing times and places.
To think I used to drive out to the far reaches to just find a place that played music I could dance to: A single woman just wanting to dance just for its own sake had my guardian angels working overtime.
I became a club kid almost by default: if I found a place that I could dance even a little, that’s where I went. LOYALLY. The nightclub where I could be found consistently, Berlin saw me coming to dance there for more than two decades.
Though I love my club education and still go dancing in public, the type I like is fewer and farther between,
so a woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do.
So with nice, thick foot mats to dance on, great music, the hot, dark roast stimulant of choice, and morning sunlight streaming in,
I adapt house (and forro and amapiano and AM radio soul) into the rhythms of my house.
Dorothy Perry creates photographic objects that carry and contain personal energy. She runs her life on her intuition in Chicago.
