A. Morris Artistry

Fine Art Photography and Watercolor Painting by Aimee Morris

10/16/19 Funny how time has a way of numbing the pain. . . .

My son started college this fall, and my daughter began her first year of high school. My son is spreading his wings, not spending as much time around the house. My daughter likes to remind me her dad and grandpa are an eighty-percent influence on her life. That only leaves twenty-percent, and if you factor in grandmas, I’m sure my contribution is much lower than that.

This coming from the adorable blonde girl who lived in my womb for nine months and was attached to my breast for almost two years (yeah, I was THAT mom)! Oh, how I long for the days when my babies gazed into my eyes adoringly (after all, “Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children,” as Eric Draven reminds us in The Crow).

Somehow my post-menopausal brain decided a puppy would be the answer to all my problems! A puppy would love and adore me! God has a funny way of letting you forget the pain involved with infants and puppies and only let’s you recall the sweet smells and soft cheeks of those little bundles of joy.

Soon I was on the internet, just window shopping, I swear. I found a pretty little girl with a “lilac” coat (purple is my favorite color after all). I showed the picture to my husband then left to go shopping with my daughter. While I was gone, hubby contacted the breeder, and after a flurry of emails and sending off a deposit, my husband and I drove across the state that weekend to pick up our new bundle of joy.

I named my new baby girl Willow, and she snuggled me the entire way home in the car. Such a sweet little thing! UNTIL- the sleep deprivation, the poop cleaning, the teething, the property destruction, the put-out siblings….oh yeah, I remember NOW. Just like the last puppy we had, just like my two babies, the memories all came flooding back. See, that’s the trick. It’s the way the good memories make us feel that we’re addicted to, which blinds us to all the bad memories. If that didn’t happen, I’m pretty sure reproduction would grind to a halt and our species would become extinct!

Although Willow is in her “piranha” phase, she still reveres me as her supreme Alpha Dog, something my children no longer acknowledge. Hopefully one day they’ll look at me again with those adoring eyes, but for now I’ll settle on knowing I’ll always be Willow’s top dog.

10/9/19 Old dogs can learn new tricks . . . . slowly.

I have enjoyed photography for several years as a hobbyist. My interest started as it does for many people, as a new parent wanting to inundate friends and family (strangers too, anyone who would look) with photos of my darling child. Not in the history of babies being born had there been a baby as adorable as mine!

I think I’ve always had a bit of an artist’s eye. My dad was an artist. I think he found his niche in drawing caricatures and would work events with local artist Tom Quigley. Recently I was given the opportunity to earn my Associate of Fine Arts degree, honing my “artistic vision,” which I wanted to apply to my interest in photography.

I got the brilliant idea I would next pursue an Associate of Applied Science degree in Photography. Several weeks into my first quarter and all I want to do is put my camera back on auto mode and be blissfully unaware of what the manual function is capable of! Taking pictures is hard. It requires thinking. I don’t know how the professionals ever capture a spontaneous moment when they must turn into a human slide rule, calculating the light conditions, depth of field and motion blur needed. Good God what have I done?! My dear husband spends a lot of his time talking me off the ledge, jokingly asking me, “What? You don’t know everything already?”

Having to learn new software while trying to understand what to do with this instrument of torture I once loved (known as a camera) has me up late at night trying to bend technology to my will, to no avail. After the inevitable tearful breakdown, I try to remind myself how far I’ve come. At 51, I finally earned my first college degree, and with pretty good grades to boot. I’ve shown myself “It is never too late to be what you might have been.” (George Eliot). I’m still not sure what I might be, but I’ve made a promise to relax a bit and enjoy the process of finding out.