Personal Projects

Some photographers call it a personal project; others, a self-assignment. I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about whether there’s a difference, and if there is, what it might be. Besides, I have my own mash-up of it: the personal assignment.

Inspired by Marilyn Monroe’s quote, “I don’t mind living in a man’s world, as long as I can be a woman in it,” photographer Mandira Bahl set off in early 2017 to document the lives and rides of Sirens MC, New York City’s oldest and largest women’s biker group. We recently caught up with Bahl to find out more about the project and how she became interested in telling the story of these “Tough Beauties.”

Every so often I find myself running out of gas and feeling the accumulated effects of days of traveling, photographing, teaching, editing, and writing. While it isn’t always easy to self-diagnose being overworked, it is easy to see the productivity and creativity of one’s photography decreasing. It is at these times I find I need to take some time away from “work” and head into the mountains to help recharge my personal batteries and get the creative juices flowing again.

You have invested in camera equipment. You have sharpened your photographic skills. You even have a gallery of your photos online. Now what? The next step for many photographers is a public exhibition of their work. It is a way to be seen, to promote and market yourself and your work, and maybe, if you are lucky, even a way to sell a print or two.

Last year, I decided to take on a challenge focusing on the unique natural beauty associated with wildfires in a Florida scrub ecosystem, one of the most rare ecosystems in the state. Florida is no stranger to wildfires. Nationwide, Florida has the second highest number of wildfires annually. In 2011, it was estimated that 300,000 acres of land was burned due to over 4800 wildfires. My project was centered at Indrio Savannahs Preserve, where a 120-acre wildfire was ignited by lightning in March of 2013.

To photograph the wild horses of the Outer Banks of North Carolina you have to deal with the fact that they are indeed wild and thus not particularly welcoming of a photographer’s attention.
But first you have to deal with the Outer Banks, a 200-mile stretch of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. “It’s important to have an awareness of time, tide, and weather,” Lisa Cueman says of the location. “You can get into your photography, but not so much that you lose a sense of your surroundings.”

Caving,” “spelunking,” “potholing.” Whatever you call it, this subterranean activity is not for everyone. There’s even a phobia that keeps some out of caves—speluncaphobia. Then, of course, there’s fear of darkness (achluophobia) and the rather more common claustrophobia—fear of no escape from small or enclosed spaces.