Dani’s Blog

Danielle Voirin Danielle Voirin

Anna & Amos

I love her curiosity, her determination. I feel reverence for how much time we spend, in childhood, to examine the details, to look in the cracks.

This photo prompted me to think about creating “poetry from the evidence” (see my about page for the reference), and the qualities that make you want to stay with a photograph, to keep looking at it. It’s pretty rare. I chose this photo to be the header of my blog for many reasons, which I’ve never articulated.

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For me, the first thing my eye goes to is Anna’s finger, so strong, trying to dig into that space between the planks. I love her curiosity, her determination. I feel reverence for how much time we spend, in childhood, to examine the details, to look in the cracks.


Then I feel the wooden planks, their texture, and think of the possible splinters. This tension is immediately calmed by Amos, lazily lying there, watching me watching them. I think he’s telling me not to worry about the splinters, that he’s on duty as the guardian angel. He was a stray cat who spent his evenings in the forest and his days with my sister and her family. He’s the first cat I loved. He came right to my lap whenever I sat down, disarming the dog-lover that I am.


I notice the watering can behind Amos, also lying down. It reminds me of the joy of watering flowers for my mom when I was young, and had nothing more pressing to do. Taking pride in the responsibility.


Then I see Anna’s eyelashes, her chubby cheeks and chubby little arm and feel my heart simultaneously ache and delight in the sweet innocence of toddlerhood. It’s so fleeting. I’m grateful for this photograph, this teeny tiny moment, paused, so we can spend time with it. It might seem silly, or obvious, but I don’t think I’ve ever really said the words, I am so grateful for photography.



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Me & sweet Amos, the first cat I ever held and cuddled.

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.
— T. S. Eliot
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Danielle Voirin Danielle Voirin

A 3 year-old Gives you 15

The first shot was at 6:47pm, the last one at 7:02pm. Exactly 15 minutes.

In that time, I shot 116 photos in 2 lighting situations on 2 different backgrounds.

I selected 26 good ones, and 10 of them I’d call “wow.”

The first shot was at 6:47pm, the last one at 7:02pm. Exactly 15 minutes.

In that time, I shot 116 photos in 2 lighting situations on 2 different backgrounds.

I selected 26 good ones, and 10 of them I’d call “wow.”

Sometimes after a shoot, while everything is still set up, I manage to get my threenager daughter onto the set.

Sometimes after a shoot, while everything is still set up, I manage to get my threenager daughter onto the set.

This is my daughter, Ever. She’s 3.5 years old and she moves very fast. If she’s not physically moving (jumping, twirling, rolling on the floor, doing random yoga poses, throwing her head back in wicked laughter), her face is moving (the grimaces, the tongue sticking out, her hands pushing and pulling at her cheeks, the sad face, happy face, scared face, angry face, etc). If I ask, “sweetie, can you look over there just a second?” it happens for much less than a second.

I’m hunting the great elusive shot I saw it zip by through her hair swirling and mischievous eye. I have an idea of the photo I want, but for each of my ideas I get 10 of hers. Nothing can really be anticipated. She’s going to give me something else and my job is to be ready, keep the focus, gently guide and watch the light falling on her face, while crawling on the ground at her level, both of us riding the spontaneity.

Outtakes. She takes child’s pose and reminds me, “mommy, this is your favorite pose!”

Outtakes. She takes child’s pose and reminds me, “mommy, this is your favorite pose!”

The photo that I originally was looking for, I printed in cyanotype, on paper and fabric. A Christmas present for the grand parents.

All things in this world must be seen with youthful, hopeful eyes.
— Henry David Thoreau
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