Even grief tells a story.

Did you know that storytelling does not only capture the greatest parts of the human experience?

Okay, well maybe you did—but I 10000% did not. Or.. maybe I did and I just didn’t want to believe it. The truth is, this year has been a year of tremendous grief—inwardly, outwardly, mentally, spiritually, physically and especially with being a creative and feeling like I’m still searching for my audience in the midst of these humble beginnings. In February of this year, I travelled to Georgia for my grandmother’s funeral and my camera never left my side. There was so much that was being said, so many beautiful moments in the midst of such a heart wrenching day/weekend that.. when seen through the lens of my Canon 80D, whispered a story about grief that was the sweetest I’ve ever known.

The way the church mothers dress their best with grieving hats to cover their droopy, sleep-deprived eyes. Or the little children grasping the hands of mourning adults, not yet knowing how this moment will imprint upon their brains in the future—but understanding that this casket, this death, this moment will explain itself soon. Or even, the black shirts and dresses that cover the bodies of people that feel their hearts are beating out of their chests with pain—

Is this not a story of grief?

Of smiles that peak through frowned faces covered with tears?

Of stomach aching laughter that echoes memories unlocked of those that were once living?

Of hearses and flower-decorated caskets that quietly engrave the names of every passenger that has been transported from the place of the living to the dust to dust of the dead?

Yes—In this, there is much storytelling.

Almost two weeks ago now, I officially captured another funeral. Grieving again, yet preserving the moments of passing that we celebrate when in moments of birthing. The faces of those who visit, the flowers that they leave, the object that holds the beloved, the voices that speak over them, the tears of those that care, and the hugs and kisses that translate love ever abounding. Yes, even in this grief tells a story.

For if anyone seeks to be a storyteller, then they deny themselves the option of choosing to tell half stories or incomplete stories that would never be published if aspired to be written down and become a best-seller. If anyone wants to be a storyteller, they are willingly picking up a cross of preference and are then receiving a life of acceptance and willingness to cry, laugh, scream, giggle, and sob when looking through the lens of their chosen communicator (the camera). Is it heavy? Yes.

But is this necessary? As any story is, oh yes—of course.

Sincerely,

Your Grieving Storyteller

Brianna Simone

the thing about just starting

When I first began creating, here’s one thing no one ever told me: starting is the hardest thing to do.

As someone who feels like a creative all day everyday with a new idea, a new passion and many visions about what could be created in the world, my biggest unspoken struggle was keeping it all inside because I felt I didn’t have enough to start.

Enough resources, enough money to buy all the “necessary” equipment, enough creative friends who were willing to help me execute, enough followers on social media who would support my vision, enough understanding for what I was trying to do, and—truthfully—enough trust in what I saw to begin making it plain in this life.

For six months I did shoots for hours on end, and sometimes two within a day just to keep my creative juices going—but even within capturing people in all that they are, I still struggled to pull the trigger of asking them to pose a certain way, asking them to join me in videoing the moment, or even finding a dope way to recreate the shoot for the people on instagram. Every time I began thinking about a new thing to create or a better way to perfect my skills—something talked me out of. The scared, unaffirmed, ignored, overlooked, nervous, anxietal, worried and dismissed part of me never failed to speak bitter nothings to me as I drafted one post after another, and even turned off notifications to avoid seeing other creatives keep doing what I would never begin to: an ailment.

On my personal page, I never failed to run into posts that plastered two to three small words on a vanilla background with a simple graphic to match: ‘just start’, ‘just do it’. Whereas others were motivated by the reminder, I was crippled by the mere thought of just starting what I felt like I would always be unable to finish. I felt.. unseen, because of the amount of times I just “did it” and felt that it was the most unfulfilling thing to think about doing. One reel filled with tips, tricks and explanations about why your photography sucks sent me into a spiral of feeling like I HAD to have it all together if I even thought about touching my audience with an art piece that tugs on every heart string.

Every video spoke to more gear, more followers, and more money to spend that I don’t have—but not once did it speak to the need of feeling inspired by both self and the world to start. In the midst of a trending audio, the content of the video oversimplified the importance of photography to shooting with qualified material as opposed to fleshing out the fact that the qualifying material of a creative is their heart.

That’s what it was, all along. My heart.

This vessel of intricacies that depends on electrical signals to beat was being connected to a man-made machine of success and value instead of being attached to a mind worth dreaming and a body worth enacting.

As I started to pull out the plugs from a dying system to a life source unmatched, my hands didn’t shake as much when it was time to post. As though my entire hard drive rebooted and only backed up what was last saved to the cloud—I realized that the old contacts I once had saved were the only contacts I needed to start and finish. Photos from years ago flickered back to my memory as a point of reference for the development of greatness. Voice messages and notes to myself in my adolescence reminded me of how badly I wanted to be here and how much my authenticity depended on it. Even the verse of the day from the Bible App that reinstalled echoed how called I felt to this space before anyone on this earth ever knew my name.

See the “right time” to post isn’t based on a certain time of day or the hashtags that you plaster to each post, but instead.. it is the excitingly tense, pulsating, passion-driven, shrug your shoulders, “ima do it” attitude that meets you mid-day during work/class or in the middle of the night before you go to bed. So when they say “just start” remind them that your heart is recalibrating. And this time, you want have to untie yourself from the expectations of people and the critic within you that doesn’t dream how and what you dream.. and never can. For the finished product will take care of itself, it is the starting that ensures us so.

strictly for the storytellers

Before becoming a creative, the greatest thing I could have learned about myself was that I am a storyteller. From the smallest detail of how the sun felt on my skin to the expressed experience of how I first knew what being in love felt like, I found myself especially intrigued by just how creative the art of storytelling is.

In this creative journey, storytelling can unknowingly become a lost art. People may simply want photos of their choosing and not of your story-centered eye. Others may withhold their affirmation of understanding for the short films that you create with your words. On another end, creatives may even find themselves standing behind the camera and shooting aimlessly more than looking through an everyday lens and seeing a new story to tell in their unique way.

If you are a creative that can relate to those experiences, great. There is no greater place you could be than right here on my free-flowing, insight filled, and unprovoked sentiments of a blog.

Only this blog is not for the average social media enthusiast or even for the curious potential client, this blog right here is strictly for the story tellers.

It is the space for openness, the space of various experiences, the room for creative uplift, and especially the area for those storytelling / creative blocks. Let’s also be clear—the average creative may not be led to this space, and even that, is perfectly okay.

But for the ones that create and tell stories—both those published and unspoken—know that this space is for us, this space is for me, and importantly—this space is for you.

This journey will be a dope one—for creative’s globally—thank you for tagging along for the ride.