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seeking truth one photo at a time

liz lamoreux

At some point today the exhaustion of the last few weeks knocked loud enough for me to hear...listening. #wateryoursoul

Oh truth...

You arrive and sometimes puddle at my feet. You push and pull at me. You sneak in like fog and wait for me to find you when the sun comes up. You confuse me and nudge me and invite me to stretch further than I think I want to.

Just washed kitchen and laundry room floors. (Noting evidence because rarely happens.) #usuallyleaveittothedog

And the truth is that you feel intangible and hard to find at times. You mingle with another's truth and mirror and hide and sometimes seem to laugh.

Just (really) happy.

But I can't turn away.

Sometimes it feels like I can touch the space between the exhaustion to come and the exhale of rest.

I will keep sifting through your layered ways as I take photo after photo trying to find you on my own face.


About five years ago, I was talking with a friend and said that I don't tend to take photos of other people at gatherings, but I always take several photos of myself. "I guess I'm a self-portrait photographer" came out of my mouth before I could stop myself. This was before it was "in," before I wrote a book about it, before Instagram, before one easily admitted such things. My friend and I laughed at the time, but I couldn't stop thinking about the incredible, vulnerable truth I had just said aloud.

Taking self-portraits is one vital way I make sense of my everyday. It is how I look for the truth. It is how I check in with myself. It is how I seek confirmation that I am not alone. It is why so many of my Instagram photos are of me, my hands, my feet, my neck, my face, me.

Meeting my own eyes makes me feel deeply seen every time. And when I pair the photos with words pulled right from the guts and make the choice to push publish, I trust that maybe just maybe they will invite you to feel less alone too.

Try it. Take a photo of yourself. I dare you.