An Artist’s Inspiration Abroad

AN ARTIST’S INSPIRATION

W O R D S A N D P H O T O S B Y

A N N A L I E S E K O N D O

All children are born artists, the problem is to remain an artist as we grow up.

– PABLO PICASSO

There is surely nothing like a child to remind you of the raw ability to create art, the art that waits inside of you, wishing for you to breathe life into it. So often we get sucked into the routine of our “adulting” and find reason to believe that anxiety and chores are all that remain for our future. We are constantly checking our phones for I don’t know what reason. Do we expect them to turn into magical unicorns that will whisk us away from the bills, the housework, and the job? Certainly we don’t take moments out of our day often enough to believe in the impossible, to create something novel, to make believe or play. That is, unless you have a child. It is then that you have a very legitimate excuse, as well as a duty, to indulge in these (continues)

moments with them. I am lucky enough to have my daughter, Emilyn. I find it rather sad though, to think that once these early years are gone, her desire to be creative will diminish along with my excuse to live in those spectacular moments with her. To say that I have tried to hold onto the art of creating from an uncensored imagination like a child is an understatement. I am, after all, a professional artist. Photography is an art, as is graphic design. But after years of being constrained by rules, guidelines, deadlines, truths and standards that we are expected to know and abide by in the design and photography world, the joy of creation can become shelled into an anxious pressure to be perfect. Although I work in the artistic field on a daily basis, my incorporation of the unbridled, nonsensical joyous art of my childhood was a strain. I saw my little girl creating things from her heart, but found that I was only being creative while on assignment, rarely for the sheer joy of it.

In 2011, the month that I turned 28 years old, I opened the doors to Studio Pixel Pop on Monck and Newcastle streets in my hometown of Brunswick. Since that time, “The Studio” and I have settled into the comfortable cocoon of doing business in the Golden (continues)

Without prompting, she carefully smelled the flowers, found awe in the butterflies, and contemplated his water lilies with wonderment.

Isles, one of the most picturesque places on earth, and my small company has ebbed and flowed with triumphs, setbacks, and everything in between. I am a wedding and event photographer, taking photos of beautiful people on the day they look their very best, in a place more breathtaking than many can imagine. I am surrounded by a community of wedding professionals, florists, caterers, venue managers, other photographers, and event designers, who, like me, do their very best job every single weekend with every single event. We live a charmed life here on these islands whether we realize it or not. A simple drive across our causeway is a constant reminder of how incredible this corner of the earth really is.

My Nonna used to tell me each time we crossed the causeway that the marsh grass was a different shade of brown or green than I had ever seen it be before. I was thrilled by the idea that there were unlimited colors here, a new way to see things each and every day. Even up to this moment, the light still illuminates the marsh grasses in a different color daily. The brides and events I photograph are all just as unique as the shades of color in our marsh grasses. They are all dear to me and inevitably find a place in my memories and inside my heart, but I felt that somehow I was missing out on the art inside of me, like it was slipping away with the days, the years. I was capturing the essence of the art inside of others and making art from their most incredible moments, yet I was no longer in tune with what was stirring within me. I needed to tap back into my freer self and see what was still waiting within. What better way than to go to Paris to experience dreams, love and light, with my daughter and muse, Emilyn.

And so it was that I turned 35 aboard the Diamant II, sailing along the Seine River in Paris, as a student. I was surrounded by about 80 other students who were studying abroad within the University System of Georgia, European Council, Paris. Dressed in their finest, they were glittery and gleaming, captured in the same state of awe as I was. Classical music played as the sun set on Notre-Dame to our left and the people of Paris watched from the river banks. We had done this thing. We were going to live and study in France for the next five weeks. Tonight we would eat fine French food and taste wine made from French grapes. The musicians played “Happy Birthday” and my little girl and I danced together and laughed wholeheartedly. We may as well have floated right up into the sky that night when the Eiffel Tower lit up. In the midst of our wonder-stricken euphoria, that tower elicited a resounding gasp from the entirety of our group the moment it began to not only glow, but twinkle.

For the next several weeks, I would photograph one of the world’s oldest and most beautiful cities, paint in the some of the world’s best parks and finest gardens. I would sketch in the Louvre, Versailles, and Luxembourg Garden. I would experience life in the old haunts of Picasso, Monet and Hemingway – and my four year old would be there with me. She would learn the same techniques that I (continues)

practiced during class. She would visit incredibly inspiring places to paint with me. We would be artists together in Paris. I simply could not ask for more.

I completed college over a decade ago in California with the city of San Francisco as my campus. Every course I took at FIDM was digital and oriented for marketing purposes. The classes were difficult. The teachers were renowned in their fields. The pace was fast and challenging. The degree I received has allowed me to work as an artist every day since graduation. It was the most relevant expression of art for an entrepreneur who wanted to have a real income. When I was three years old, I told my parents that I wanted to be an artist. My goals have never changed. It was also at that time that I offered to sell them one of my paintings. I may have always wanted to be an artist, but I have never wanted to be a starving artist. Graphic designers and photographers make money.

A momma in the park with her four year old is not making money, although sitting there in the cool grass, with the sun on their faces, their lives are becoming enriched beyond measure. The girl sketching while sitting on the floor of the Richelieu wing in the Louvre is not getting paid, but she can close her eyes and see from memory the morning sun illuminating some of the greatest stone works of art in the world – the soft shadows giving the marble depth and clarity. Let me tell you, that is worth something.

I have always had the need and desire to make my own money and likely always will. But what I don’t need is to look back at the years and wonder why I didn’t put it all on hold to paint in Paris with my kid. I needed balance. How many people look back and think, “Wow, I really wish I had worked more. I wish I had been away from my family more. Taken fewer vacations.”? I had to make this happen. I had to take a deep breath and take a risk. I feel like I quite literally had to go to Paris.

Clint Samples, Associate Dean for Special Projects & Professor of Art, University of West Georgia, says, “Growing up is tough on an artist. Life sets in and many artists have family commitments and bills to pay once they graduate. The creative joy and freedom we had as kids can easily fade away in today’s 9 to 5 world. The ultimate goal is to hold on to our creative selves despite all of this. For Annaliese and others in the EC Study Abroad program (including the faculty), five weeks away in Paris was a wonderful opportunity to recapture that time lost and to rediscover why we chose ‘artist’ as our title and our goal in life.”

At 35, I was far from the traditional student. I was at least a decade older than my classmates and was constantly mistaken as faculty. I found myself in this strange role, playing a (continues)

Students strike a pose in the hall of mirrors in the palace of Versailles

View of Paris from Montmartre

have an opportunity to bond with, so this trip provided me a unique opportunity to form relationships with a collection of people from whom I would otherwise be disconnected. I believe that the fifteen years from age 20 to 35 can dramatically change a person. In many lives, some of the most significant foundations of who we are in this world are laid during these years. These kids had found their way to do part of their most important growing in Paris. It was a thrill for me to observe them soaking that city in and to see their interactions with my child. Many students and faculty alike went out of their way to make her feel included and loved. I do not take lightly the impact these young people have had on her life. Although our time with them was relatively brief, I hope she will remember their willingness to take time with her, to be expressive and kind. I hope she remembers their efforts to make us both feel as much a part of the group as anyone, despite our strange ages.

The faculty of the EC Paris program was proof of the impact that living, studying, or working abroad can have on a life, a career. Luc D. Guglielmi, Ph.D., Associate Professor of French, Kennesaw State University, and Kenneth P. Kirk, Ph.D. Professor of Music, Valdosta State University, Co-Directors of European Council of Georgia Paris Program, along with the invaluable Dr. Brian Mann, Professor of Modern Languages, University of North Georgia, orchestrated a program to be envied. They delivered exceptional, meaningful experiences to the students, all the while maintaining an exemplary standard in academic credibility and excellence.

College of Coastal Georgia students have many opportunities to raise money to help fund the trip. Thanks to the kindness of Wayne Johnson, President/CEO, The Coastal Bank of Georgia, and his donation to the College of Coastal Georgia Foundation, several students including myself received scholarships that alleviated the financial aspect from our studies. Because of the generosity of our locals and their insight into the residual value of the study abroad experience for our residents, the entire Golden Isles community will reap (continues)

the benefits of the students’ experiences as they enter our work force. That applies to the entire state of Georgia. As more students enroll with the UGS European Council, more students will return with increased maturity, flexibility, and better ability to adeptly handle global or multinational challenges. They will also demonstrate greater resourcefulness and the drive needed to excel in their fields.

Of course, Emi could not go to class with me, and I was certainly not going to Paris without her, so something had to be figured out for her care while I was in class or working. My amazing dad and stepmom stepped in: “We will come and take care of Little Bit.” They were serious. They got passports, bought airline

tickets and secured an awesome and incredibly reasonably priced Airbnb in a little place called Villejust in the French countryside just outside of Paris. It was an easy 45 minute commute to Paris and just far enough away to boast every bit of the small town character as Belle’s hometown in Beauty and the Beast. (In fact, I couldn’t get its opening song out of my head for a week after seeing “the baker with his tray like always” one morning just after sunrise!) We made friends with and were helped beyond belief by the locals. Ali, the proprietor of the local market, just next door to the town patisserie, offered to loan me a coffee pot instead of selling me one since I only needed it temporarily. His friends overheard me talking about needing to find a print shop that was open on Sunday and not only went home and printed my files but walked over and left them in the mailbox later that night. Through broken English and broken French, my parents formed friendships in that town that I believe will last a lifetime.

There is a common stereotype of the French being …well … not nice. Meanwhile, Southerners are nice even when they are not necessarily being nice. I was quick to hide my smile on the streets and to mind my cultural manners the best that I could. When we entered a restaurant or store we immediately said “bonjour.”

We always said “s’il vous plaît” and “merci.” In my interactions with the French in shops, museums, businesses, my kindness was almost always met with kindness, albeit a more abrupt version of the kindness we tend to deliver here in the South. On the sidewalk or loading in or out of the subway, no one is going to move over to get out of your way, and they aren’t going to randomly strike up a conversation with you either. I tried to keep this in perspective as a visitor there and, really, I can sympathize with them. Parisians share their roads and sidewalks with a staggering 83 million visitors a year. That’s far more than New York or L.A., and for a city with a much smaller physical size and population, that’s a lot of people with whom to share your space. We get fussy when a car with out of state plates gets in front of us in the roundabout on the island. Imagine contending with all those people, everywhere you go, and, to make it worse, they don’t speak your language and have the most ridiculous grin plastered on their face. These poor city residents are likely just trying to get to work while the visitor blocking them from their train has their face buried in their Rick Steve’s guide to crèpes.

I had heard that the markets were something not to be missed. I am so glad we followed through on the advice to explore and experience this part of their daily lives and to simply watch the French be French. At the market they truly came alive. They met their regular vendors with warmth and laughter, they joked and hugged. When we tried to order from the cheese monger and obviously were not going to be able to communicate, a lady made her way across a crowded area to stand with us and translate. She told me she loved to speak English and rarely had the chance, so this was a treat for her. At another stand we were helped by a man while trying to buy strawberries and he even tried to haggle a better deal for us, with no luck. Emilyn racked up more free fruit from generous vendors than she could eat at the food market and more toys than we could bring home from the flea market.

In the subway, strangers would pat Emilyn on the head. One day she had her feet on the metro seat and the man across from us, a very well dressed gentleman about my age, made eye contact with her and gently reached over and pulled her feet down from the seat. In a restaurant, a waiter simply picked her up and put her in the booster seat. The French were helping to make sure my child felt loved, knew the rules, and had what she needed. They seem to think of children as a collective body of little people who deserve a little bit of extra attention and effort. There was no reason to feel (continues)

Waiting for the train with Gobbies (Grandparents)

“creeped out” or offended by what they did. When I sent a nervous message to Dr. Carla Bluhm, Ph.D., Psychology faculty at Coastal College of Georgia, about keeping my young daughter safe in the city, the weight of my worry was instantly lifted by her simple response: “Paris will not hurt you. Paris is there to heal you.” She was right. They were Parisians, making us feel like we were a part of their life, their world. For that, I am eternally grateful.

French indulgences for children abounded. When visiting the renowned cooking school, Le Cordon Bleu, we quickly saw why the establishment had the reputation as one of the finest hospitality education institutions in the world. You could tell instantly that operations were fluid and everything about the place was as satisfyingly perfect as a well-planned meal. After an incredible lunch, a man who seemed to be a manager brought a shiny silver pin over to Emi and pinned it to her shirt. He then pointed to the same pin on his lapel, indicating to her that she was now a part of his team. The gesture was small but had a big impact. She felt important and special. We were being treated with respect and kindness by someone who could have easily not given us second thought.

I went to Paris looking for something I had lost some time back in college. It was that thing inside of me that allowed me to love myself and the beautiful things around me uninhibitedly. The thing that let me create art like a child, without a care as to what someone else may think of it. I began to feel it again our second day there, while aimlessly wandering Monmartre alone for hours. There was no need to explain why artists had historically been drawn to this city and to this neighborhood in particular. The reasons were all around me; they were in the stones beneath my feat, in the breeze and sounds that surrounded me. I could imagine a thousand stories for every road I walked down, a thousand paintings for every gargoyle perched upon the Sacré-Cœur Basillica. There was no better magic in the world that night than the magic I felt realizing a dream coming true and a passion renewed on the streets of Paris.

Five weeks later, I would return home with three Parisian photo shoots under my belt. The first, a triumphant story of 6 30" balloons above my head on a metro train car and Beryl Robertson, a 2018 Glynn Academy grad with highest honors. Now, at Oberlin College, she has the world at her feet and, for a moment that morning, the Eiffel Tower was all hers too.

I saw the first morning light fall on my subjects in the courtyard of the Louvre. I watched as young adults danced in front of my lens and surely felt as amazing as they looked. They were dancing in Paris and they were the only people in sight.

I photographed my own masterpiece, Emilyn, with the lace umbrella that she was so proud of in the very garden in which the master Monet spent countless hours painting and dreaming. Somehow, I know he would have loved to have painted her among his flowers. Without prompting, she carefully smelled the flowers, found awe in the butterflies, and contemplated his water lilies with wonderment. My dream of becoming a professional artist became reality when Studio Pixel Pop opened its doors but as they say, “you never stop learning.” Somewhere in the midst of those days in Paris I learned that it is okay to indulge in the childish joy of art and to feel each moment of its creation without doubt or fear. I learned that, when I let go of the anxiety and let my heart tell the lens what my eyes see, the magic I feel inside is realized forever in the photograph. The foundations of design and business have long been there. Upon them I have photographed our beloved Golden Isles and her live oaks, sunny beaches, and blue-green-goldbrown marshes with skill and dutifulness. My past brides have said that my photos are like works of art, and I dare say I agree. Hopefully my future brides will tell you that my art captured not only the essence of their moments, but some insight into the artist’s inner enchantment, within the pages of their albums.

Kenneth Kirk, Co-Director, European Council of Georgia Paris Program said of the photos I took there, “Because Annaliese is a professional photographer, I expected her pictures to be very good. But they’re not just very good, they are extraordinary. Every single one is a work of art.” In Paris with my little muse, I was able to find the art within me once again. It has been said that “Paris exists to remind you that your dreams are real.” For me, it did just that.

For more about me, my photography, and this trip, visit my blog at studiopixelpop.com. For additional information about the UGS European Council Study Abroad program, visit ecstudyabroad.net/paris.