Liz is a contributing artist to OFFSET. Offset artists are visual storytellers with a deep passion for their craft. Images in the Offset collection are gathered from world-class and award-winning assignment photographers, illustrators, and agencies, with a focus on unique content with narrative, authentic, and sophisticated qualities. A high-end imagery resource from Shutterstock. Authentic, captivating stock photography and illustrations.
Liz's work has been featured on Childhood Unplugged, The Family Narrative, and Explorer Kids.
Liz was featured in the quarterly online journal for conscious mothering, Root + Rise. Below is her piece on Art + Process and the accompanying image, or the original can be viewed here.
As the rain pats down on the roof in our new home, a home that feels protected within the confines of a tree with its vast wooden interior, the word nourishment rises into my thoughts. The rain nourishes the flora and fauna that surrounds us and feeds my curiosity in a way that I have not experienced in a long time. Since we have been in the midst of persistent drought, I am in awe of the water falling from the sky and can see it in my kids as well, as we stand at the back door just watching and listening. The birds hop around on the back hill hunting bugs, worms and seeds and it appears that the earth is taking a deep breath in.
Like the water feeds the earth’s systems, the act of making is nourishment for me, in the most abstract yet fully tangible way deep in my chest. Whether making a photograph, baking a pie or hammering a nail for my latest project - it is the process that fills me up. As a mother, I have turned my gaze and priorities to filling up my offspring; Nourishing their bodies and souls, protecting them from harm and bad news, but knowing that the hard stuff teaches valuable lessons.
My youngest child reminded me that, by example we show the way. We were talking about our most favorite things to do and I said hugging family and hearing them laugh was my favorite. He looked at me sincerely and said, "Remember Mommy, you love taking pictures”.
I was drawn to photography as a middle schooler, seeing macro photography in the pages of National Geographic and wanting desperately to recreate it, to get so close to something that you can study it scientifically and to see it intimately in a way few take the time to examine. I remember feeling confident that I too could make photographs like that. I wandered into my backyard with a simple point and shoot, and getting a close as I could to the honeysuckle, the boxwood, and ivy, I clicked away. I was so excited to get the film back but was instantly disappointed at the blur staring back at me. My mom, recognizing my passion, interest and disappointment, bought me my first “real” camera - a used Pentax SLR. Mothers are the best at that- nourishing curiosity and allowing exploration. I was hooked from that moment.
I feel that since becoming a mother myself, our kids have become my creative muse. I have had to think carefully about finding a balance between being more wholly in the moment (without a camera up to my face), and nourishing that part of me with the act of a small capture, data written on a small silicon chip, the light allowed to pass through a tiny opening to imprint the moment on a strip of emulsion covered plastic film. I want to inspire my kids to look closer, to pause, to hold one's breath for a moment to imprint a sight in their memory. I want to hike with them, to play cheetahs, to build a fort as high as the sky, but I always want to remember the way the light kissed their cheeks at dusk, or the proud smile that beams back at me when a peak has been summited. Perhaps, some of my photos are snapshots just to remind them as teenagers that they loved squishing their toes in the dirt, but also to illustrate to them that there is beauty in taking time to nourish oneself, to fill up your own bucket with the pursuit of your passion.