I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face

I’m an artist. I live, right or wrong, squarely and firmly, on the emotional side of life.

For it seems to be, only on this side, the emotional side, that I can best connect to my beating and bleeding heart and hear the very wisdom, words, and whispers of her call.

The reason I roll with photography, like I do, in my drippy, lyrical, autobiographical style, photos, and words, is mostly, because of my uncanny ability to personify both the product and process of photography too and for my own experience.

To me, photography and my camera isn’t just math and science, but love and life.

It’s really that simple.

In my mind and heart-of-hearts, I intentionally make attributions, of a personal nature and human characteristic, to my camera. I’ve always been able to do this.

It’s called personification. It’s not difficult. And it’s not weird. It’s a powerful way of connecting to inanimate objects, places, things, experiences.

In other words, at least according to my bias, in the poetic way I roll, photography is a woman and a beautiful, powerful, strong, creative woman at that.

I can understand and appreciate her far better, once humanized and made flesh.

She makes more sense to me in mortal, vulnerable, fallible form.

She is not mechanical but emotional. Just like me. Just like us.

I don’t think of her as a machine or a piece of high technology.

She is neither software or hardware but heartware.

She is so much more than just individual features and functions or even the sum of her parts.

She is total, complete, all-encompassing.


She is human. She is personified. She is personal. She is warm. She is inviting.

She is a living, breathing persona.

Full of life, interest, curiosity, surprise, sensuality, mystery, natural and intrinsic beauty.

In her presence, I am devoted to our compatibility, companionship, and intimacy.

Her company is second nature to me now, like breathing out and breathing in.

I’ve grown accustomed to her face.

I’ve grown accustomed to the trace…of something in the air.

I know this woman. She knows me. It just works for us.


Photography is intimacy personified.

How can you create lovely pictures and not be in love? It’s not possible.

Love begets love. Beauty begets beauty. Design begets design. Story begets story.

To be in love is to create and show love.

Consider, if you will, the organic and visceral combination of technology and intimacy, science and art, machine and man, both speaking the very same language, both celebrating each other’s strengths, both enjoying the same things in life, both personifying each other.

For if my camera was only a marvel of engineering, I would never quite marvel at the other side of her-the charming, delightful, irresistible, beguiling side.

Personification leads to attraction and connection.

Imagine if you will, the two of us, mutual, consensual, lovers, enjoying an evening glass of wine, in our humble Tuscan villa.


We are sitting at a rustic, unfinished, wooden farm table, full of vases of fresh lavender and hand-picked sunflowers. We eat off chipped plates with patinated sterling silverware. The windows are open.


A nice countryside breeze flows through the interior rooms, with calming ease.

The furnishings are an eclectic array of Italian colors, textures, designs, comfort.


Pietra Serena sandstone, also known as Macigno stone, accents the villas’ border, in ornamental flair and style. Bare wood and terracotta floors are everywhere. The smell of fresh herbs radiates from the garden. Fresh bread is baking in the oven. A bowl of cheese, vine tomatoes, plums, pairs, and figs, sits invitingly in a center bowl, like a glorious still-life, inviting touch and taste. Candlelight, everywhere, provides our hospitable and harmonious atmosphere.


In the distance, you can faintly hear the sound of a neighbor playing his mandolin.

We are together, mano y mano, enjoying the moment, wishing, wondering, wandering. We are in love. Life is good. I love this woman. I know she feels the same.


I’ve grown accustomed to her face.

I know this face. Her name is photography.



I’ve Grown Accustomed To Her Face
by James Taylor

Adaption of longer version from “My Fair Lady”, music by Frederick Loewe and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner, performed by Rex Harrison

I’ve grown accustomed to her face
She almost makes the day begin
I’ve grown accustomed to the tune
She whistles night and noon
Her smiles, her frowns
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now
Like breathing out and breathing in
I was serenely independent and content before we met
Surely, I could always be that way again
And yet I’ve grown accustomed to her look
Accustomed to her voice
Accustomed to her face
I guess I’m used to hear her say
“Good morning” every day
Her joys, her woes
Her highs, her lows
They’re second nature to me now
Like breathing out, breathing in
I’m very grateful she’s a woman
And so easy to forget
Rather like a habit one can always break
And yet I’ve grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air
Accustomed to her face

Jack Hollingsworth