Bubbling Over—Dear Bubbles’ 100th Article!
Dear Bubbles:
Why do you like bubbles so much?
Bubbling Up
Dear Bubbling Up:
Before we dive into your question, I’m thrilled to share that today marks not only the fifth anniversary of Dear Bubbles but also Dear Bubbles’ 100th posted article since 2019! I appreciate all your questions, your support and you being a part of this readership over these last five years. What an honor it has been to learn about photography and life together! Pie and bubbly all around!
So of course we’re going to talk bubbles to celebrate!
But let’s be perfectly clear: I don’t like bubbles. I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE bubbles!
Bubbles—and anything that resembles bubbles—fascinate me. I love them in my fresh-brewed coffee. In the dish soap foaming in my sink. In bubble baths. In sparking water and in Prosecco, Cava, and Champagne. Intertwined with seaweed. In pond scum. As raindrops on leaves. On blades of green grass. Embedded in thin white sheets of ice. Washing up on sandy shores in waves. Even floating in the air and as puffy clouds in polka dot patterns. Let’s not forget that pie comes in bubble-form too (at least to start…).
To paraphrase Dr. Seuss, “I love them here or there. I love them anywhere.”
My bubble adoration originated on Isle au Haut in Acadia National Park in Maine in 2013. After photographing seaweed and bubbles unsuccessfully as separate subjects for about two years, my brain lost all two of its marbles when I saw bubbles floating in seaweed in a small tide pool on the shoreline boulders. Metaphorically, the grouping of bubbles looked like a bunch of planets circling around each other. I was completely mesmerized—and it was really the first time I had ever felt that way about my connection with anything in nature and the photograph that resulted. (Read the full story at “Playing Favorites”.)
That experience piqued my curiosity in bubbles. Did you know:
- Bubbles are round because they form in the smallest surface area which happens to be a sphere shape.
- Bubbles don’t fly. They float. The less dense air molecules inside a bubble glide on top of the denser carbon dioxide molecules in our air.
- The circular form of bubbles symbolizes the interconnectedness of life.
- According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the largest soap bubble ever blown by hand was “0.25 m³ (15,255.94 in) and was achieved by Pierpaolo Laconi (Italy) in San Juan de Alicante, Alicante, Spain, on 19 November 2020.” (Laconi is a former accountant turned “Bubble Artist”.)
How cool, right?!
What’s even more captivating is that bubbles reflect and refract light which can produce stunning (i.e., photogenic) patterns and prisms of color. They are ephemeral. They evoke a sense of childlike playfulness. I assure you, every time I see bubbles, I squeal like the six-year-old I used to be. As a meme goes, “There is no angry way to say bubbles.”
So now I have a highly developed bubble radar! I seek them out everywhere my travels take me. And I have yet to meet a bubble I didn’t like! Seeing them simply brings me immense joy. They instantly brighten my mood. They also remind me to pay closer attention to my surroundings and embrace my individual awe, wonder, and reverence with the little things in nature (which aren’t so little, after all). Bubbles remind me to embrace the moment, for this moment (and all moments) is fleeting and oh-so-beautiful.
I mean, what’s not to love about bubbles?!?
Now, I don’t expect that everyone will love bubbles like I do—or even understand my infatuation with them. Some may even scoff at the idea that I lose all two of my marbles over such a “silly” thing. I was once told by a stranger that my bubbly amusement was childish. I don’t think he meant it as a compliment, but I certainly took it as one.
Here’s the thing, I spent the first 40 years of my life worried about what other people thought of me—so much so that in focusing on achieving and pleasing others, I had overlooked my own joy. I had this to say about it in my memoir, So Said the River (chapter 15):
“…to an overachieving perfectionist, doing things purely for intrinsic pleasure sounded sinfully self-indulgent. But was it? Was paddling across a reservoir selfish? Was photographing leaves in a desert stream self-absorbed? Was splashing in puddles to celebrate a desert rainstorm immature?
Who cared?”
A couple paragraphs later, I continued: “So long as I wasn’t a burden on society, what prevented me from having unadulterated fun? I don’t remember getting a memo that said adulting had to be a slog through the mud of responsibility while dragging a lifetime of baggage along the way.”
So as a fully grown, responsible adult, you better believe I’m gonna be childish for as long as I possibly can. As the quote goes (which is often misattributed to Walt Disney), “Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.”
While I certainly hope you can appreciate the absolutely magical and magnificent world of bubbles and support my affection for them without judgment, it makes no difference to me or my life whether you do. It’s my life. My joy.
In the same way, it’s your life. Your joy. More important to me than you liking bubbles is to find your own “bubbles”—that thing or things that make you squeal like the six-year-old you used to be. If you haven’t already, figure out whatever is most important in your life—dolphins, rocks, old buildings, butterflies, fungi, steam engines, trees, [insert your favorite thing here]—and unapologetically, confidently, and happily embrace it and photograph it however, whenever, and wherever you damn well please without any care about what others think about it. Eleanor Roosevelt said, “What other people think of you is none of your business.” To take it a step further, to distort that quote, “What other people think of your photographs is none of your business.”
Photograph for yourself first and photograph the things you LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE, because the world around you means something to you. That is reason alone to love and photograph [insert your favorite thing here]. Whatever you decide—and you can pick more than one thing and you can change your mind over and over again!—please, please, please don’t ever lose your childlike wonder about the world in which we live.
(I should point out here that our society treats joy, happiness, pleasure, etc. as the Holy Grail of emotional states. It is not. While it feels good, it is only one of the multitude of emotions humans experience over the course of a lifetime for a myriad of completely valid reasons. One emotion is not necessarily better than the others. If the idea of photographing joy or any other emotion is too much for your tastes, I understand. Substitute the word “meaning” for “emotion” and work from there. You may not be feeling joy, but it is possible to create meaning no matter your emotional state. I digress.)
If we’re using photography as a way to express the emotions we feel and/or the meaning we find in our life’s journey—and I am—then feeling a deep sense of connection is reason alone to make a frame (or two or two hundred). Photography is how we package and share our inner thoughts, stories, and perspectives with the outer world. Even if you never share your photographs with the outside world (or chose a different medium), outwardly projecting your own authentic curiosities, knowledge, and beliefs enhances the quality of your life. To live your own truth is bold and courageous. Live it proud!
Should you choose to share your images—and I hope you do!—your viewpoint expands the understanding of our shared world for others. I don’t have to like old buildings as much as you do, but when you share your knowledge and enthusiasm for old buildings with me, it shows me something I’m not likely to otherwise see or appreciate. I get excited when you get excited! That’s joy multiplied! I mean, how boring would it be if we all liked and photographed exactly the same thing? (I’ll answer: super duper boring.) It’s your individual uniqueness that brings flavor and diversity into our shared life experiences. I want to hear and see our differences because it broadens my horizons.
So go forth and embrace your BUBBLY love over whatever brings you joy out there in this world. But be forewarned! If you geek out about something long enough, it’ll gain you a nickname. My dear friend and fellow photographer Bruce Hucko started calling me “Bubbles” at the Moab Photography Symposium in 2014. Like bubbles touching a soapy surface, the nickname stuck.
And now I’ve been writing a column under that moniker for the last five years. I can’t say that was on the life plan—but I am ever so grateful and so delighted for what’s transpired instead! Thank you once again for your support! Let’s keep going and growing together in this fabulous community! Raising my glass of bubbly to you tonight!
Be well, be brave, be wild,
~Bubbles
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