Mothers: Tell your daughter you're pretty.

My one-year-old daughter is in that stage where she attempts to repeat everything I say. The other day, I was thumbing through a catalog and she heard me exclaim, "Ooh, pretty!" She grinned and repeated—“Ooh, pri-iy!" It just tickles me to death to hear her repeat words back to me with such clarity and conviction, so I couldn't help but encourage her over the next few days. "Bug, can you tell the doggy she's pretty?" "Gee! Gee pri-iy!"

In our culture, we put a whole lot of emphasis on pretty. Because of this, as mothers, we want our daughters to feel pretty. When my little bug gets out of the bathtub and sees herself in the mirror, I always catch myself saying, "Who is that pretty girl? It's you! You're such a pretty girl, Liv!" Until recently, the impact of those words never really occurred to me. I just felt that I was encouraging my daughter because, after all, don't we all want to feel and believe that we're pretty?

My sweet little Liv. She's very "pri-iy!"

This morning, an interesting TED Talk came across my news feed. It was titled, "Why thinking you're ugly is bad for you." Bad for you? I thought. Well it's not a good thing, but is it really bad for you?

In the 12 minute lecture, Meaghan Ramsey discusses how feeling ugly negatively effects all of us, right down to test scores and job placement. The truth of it is, because our culture puts so much emphasis and effort into aesthetics, when we feel ugly, we feel less valuable, and so we don't perform as well. As I watched the video, I thought about my little girl. Of course I want to change the world; of course I want pretty to mean less, or at least something different. But for the next twenty years, as she's growing up and she's impressionable to her peers and how they see her, what can I do to prove to her that she's worthy—or, in modern words, "pretty?"

All of my parenting books tell me that my daughter is a sponge. That she will observe the world around her and what she absorbs will form her personality. And, above all, she will mimic how my husband and I live our lives and see and treat ourselves. So, if I don't think I'm pretty, will my little girl believe me when I say she's pretty?

"Mom, stop it, you're embarrassing me with all this talk about how pretty I am."

One thing I love about working with mothers on boudoir sessions is that giving them a confidence boost, showing them how incredibly beautiful they are, will spill over into their everyday lives. When I was growing up, I never heard my mother compliment herself. She would always agonize over being fat, wrinkly, or some other aspect of herself that she hated. And so, though I was always thin and "pretty," like most girls, I still nit-picked at myself. I still hated my tummy and my crooked teeth and when I looked in the mirror, those were the first things I saw. I have to wonder—if my mother had told me she was beautiful, would I have had a different idea of beauty?

Food for thought, ladies. Happy Monday! Do something awesome this week!

Get It, Girls!

Since announcing my boudoir model call, and especially since announcing my open boudoir marathon yesterday, there’s one thing I’ve been hearing a lot of: “If only I looked more _______.” Toned. Skinny. Like I did before I had kids. Like a Kardashian. Like I did when I was 22.

Girls. Listen to me. I know the word "model" can be intimidating, but I can promise you this right now--I do not want a room full of Kardashian lookalikes on the 24th. I love me some daytime drama, but that's not what I'm looking for. Yes, this is a "modeling" marathon. No, that does not mean I want fashion models! I want real women in front of my camera. And I promise that I will make you look as good as you feel on January 24th (which, by the way, will be damn good).

I’ve always loved fashion and beauty magazines as much as the next girly girl (which I’m somehow not… seriously, ask Megan Bourque if I was wearing makeup at our boudoir marathon planning meeting…), but they leave a bad taste in my mouth, too. I know my way around Photoshop better than I know my way around my own house, and that’s putting it mildly. So, can I spot a liquified waistline or a slightly-perkier-than-humanly-possible booty? As my grandma would say, you betcha.

I’m sure some of you have seen the videos and the incredible before-and-after Photoshop gifs floating around the internet. At least weekly, I see someone pin or link an article about the excessive use of Photoshop and how it's ruining our self esteem. So, if we're all aware of this, why are we still beating ourselves up?

Ladies, please hear me out: You do not have to be sculpted to be beautiful. At least, not to the people who matter. I know we hear this all the time, but honestly, it's time for a reality check.

Do yourself a favor: ask whoever's opinion you value the most (hopefully yourself, but you could also ask your husband, your boyfriend, your best friend, etc.) what they love about you. This has nothing to do with sexuality; it's about true beauty and self-worth. I can promise you that the first thing that comes to mind will not be "that booty" (though it may be on the list). I know what my favorite thing about myself is: my drive. I love that I work hard and that I've finally learned to stop worrying about failure. So, if I were to have my portraits done right now, that's what I'd want them to capture. A strong, driven woman. Not a nice set of tatas (although, not gonna lie, bonus points if the girls happen to be on the perky side that day).

I think there's a lot of misconception about boudoir photography. Many women think that boudoir is simply a celebration of the body--particularly, the ideal body. Let's take a step back. The very definition of boudoir is "a woman's bedroom or private sitting room," or "room where a lady may retire to be alone," from the French word boudoir. To me, boudoir photography should be an intimate portrait of a woman's best features. Often, those features are her confidence, passion, ambition, strength, or grace. That is what boudoir photography should portray. And when it's done right, no matter what a woman's body type is or how much clothing she is or isn't wearing, she. Looks. Sexy.

My point is, your task as a boudoir "model" is not to look like you belong on the cover of Maxim. Hell, you don't even have to wear lingerie! All I need you to do is come in knowing what makes you the woman you are. If you have a clear idea of who you want to be on film, we can make a beautiful, compelling portrait. And really, that's what great boudoir is all about.

Own it, ladies!

Yours,
Emily

PS - Here is the original image from the ad above. We're all guilty of faking it sometimes.

The Creative Heart of Emily Caldwell Photography

A few nights ago, I was sorting through an old, old, old portfolio site I had made for myself back in 2010. When I first opened the home page, I felt a little... guilty. Like I'd wronged myself. We all expect to grow and change in 5 years' time, but sometimes the growth isn't what we thought it would be. Sometimes, while developing one part of a heart, another vital piece gets pushed aside.

I'd like to share a little history about my creative journey. This is history that, until I was flipping through process books and websites and old portfolio pieces a few days ago, I had almost forgotten. But, with the direction I'll be taking my business in the coming months, I feel this is a vital part of me to share because this is where my passion comes to life.

2008-2009 process book

Brag moment: My 2009-2010 process book was turned in for credit and received an "A+++" with the note: "Raw, vulgar, I love it. You nailed it."

In 2008, I was attached at the hip to my best friend, Chelsea. We would spend 80% of our time after school clipping fashion magazines and creating some honestly vulgar "collage-y" interpretations of pop culture, pasted into required reading books from our English class that we hated. (My "process book" was The Old Man and The Sea, in case you were wondering) We'd take inspiration from the colors, textures, and compositions we created in those books and bring it alive on camera. Chelsea would get dressed up in something classy, sexy or downright weird. We'd take my little Canon Rebel XTi outside and find a well-lit spot, or we'd go to my brother's old empty bedroom, drop a bed sheet down the wall, and I'd use his car work lights for studio lighting. We did some variation of this almost every day for two years.

For two years, I did nothing with my spare time but create. And looking back, given my knowledge and the tools I had to work with, I am damn proud of what I created.

Fast forward to fall of 2009. I had gained admission into my dream school, Minneapolis College of Art and Design, with plans to pursue a career in fashion and editorial photography. I was happy. I was sleep deprived and sometimes my work got shredded to pieces in critiques, but I at least had momentum. I organized regular Fashion Friday events with my friend and art director, Zamin Dharsi, collaborating with all kinds of local artists and creatives; I was doing what I loved even when it wasn't the assignment.

But at some point, I got spooked. I don't remember exactly how or why. I don't know if it was something that was said to me by a well-meaning friend or professor, or if it was the weight of the idea that my art would have to be meaningful and unique to sustain my career. In a sea of artists of all levels, I couldn't help but compare myself and feel inadequate. So, I left MCAD to "figure it out."

Reality check: You know what happens to students who leave school to "figure it out?" Most of the time, they don't. At least, not for a really long time. I can't say I regret my decision to leave school. I think huge parts of me--parts totally unrelated to my creative life--needed to grow or heal before I was ready to pursue my art. I do, however, regret that when I left school, I left my art with it. I should have known better!

It was a long time before I really picked my camera back up. I continued shooting occasionally, either at the request of friends and family or when I had a creative urge. But for the most part, my creativity was stifled by fear of the unknown. As an artist, I was completely paralyzed by fear.

When my husband, Nick, and I got together, I really got the what-for. Nick knew my work from far before we were a couple or married (in fact, I took his moody-guitar-player senior photos back in the day). He knew my talent and he loved that about me. Nick pushed me. At first it was, "Don't you want to do photography again?" or, "Would you like to shoot this session for my buddy?" I'd respond with a sheepish excuse: "I haven't shot anything in so long" or "I don't have the right equipment" or "I'm just not ready." Finally, his "do you wants" turned into him volunteering me for every type of session or event under the sun, which led to my hesitant first few bookings.

When my passion for photography came back, it honestly took me by surprise. I'm no longer a 19-year-old college student with nothing to my name but a beat up Toyota Celica and a closet full of hand-me-downs. I am now a wife and a mother; people are depending on me to do this right. I don't know why I dared to jump in like I did, investing so much of my time, money and heart. If I had to guess, I'd say (as cliche as this sounds), I did it for my daughter. In 17 years, Olivia will be going off to college to start her own career. I don't want her decisions to be based on fears. I need her to know that it's okay to fail, as long as you try with all of your heart. I can't teach her that if I don't show her that.

Last year, I committed most of my time, all of my money, and a little bit of my heart to my business. This year, I'm doing things differently. This year, I'm committing some of my time, a little bit of my money, and ALL of my creative heart (but not my family heart--shout out to you, husband, you tolerant, neglected man!)

How will that change Emily Caldwell Photography? How will that change my style and how I do business? It’s going to be amazing… but more on that later.

Yours,
Emily