Holiday in the fog.

Flew home this christmas only to be held hostage the entire time by the mountain's dense fog. It was quite lovely.


Closest I got to the sun.




my models

Chertoff

The U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff. His favorite thing to say seems to be "I can't confirm as of right now".

all photos copyright of H.W.

Thanksgiving

at my parent's new house.









t'was a good time had by all.

hanne

That which many people only use as a muscle, she uses as a heart.

hvatthode.wordpress.com

Eye Candy

my new roommate and I wish you a
Happy Halloween!

Rob and the torch

Rob Van Elburg from the Netherlands.
These are the outtakes from the shoot. My two favorite will go into my portfolio. I think that's what this blog should be for- the photos that otherwise would never be seen.
*all photos are copyright of Holliday Williams

Caldwell Wedding

900 miles over the moon

I thought I'd kick off the new photo+blog by reposting the first entry I made with my old blog a year and a half ago. Just for old times sake...
"Anomaly"


hard to believe I'm still kickin' it in d.c.!

Hey Little World! I've just switched blog addresses, that's all. My old blog will stay active for awhile, but will not be updated. This is its new home.

old blog: heylittleworld.blogspot.com
new blog: eyeheartphoto.blogspot.com

Cheers.

Jewel of the South

Last year I spent nearly a month photographing Drag show performances in Appalachia. Today, I discovered that my favorite appalachian GLAM-A-ZON is no longer with us. This is shocking and sad and I feel so lucky to have known and photographed Stayzia, who was only 38 years young.

The Problem of RAW files

For those who shoot with a digital camera:

There's a problem with the future of the RAW format.

In the future there will be new computers, new operating systems and old software will become obsolete. Remember how you bought all those 8-tracks? Remember floppy disks?

"...camera makers will support legacy files only for that long, until it becomes too much of a burden or expensive (or they go out of business like Konica-Minolta), so the future for current RAW files is very, very uncertain."

Thankfully, there is someone trying to address the issue by finding solutions and grilling companies about their plans for the future preservation of our work. Check out the OpenRAW website and be more aware of your camera model's files and your options.


Or, start shooting film again.

Summer is nearly over, sigh.

Portrait of the artist, Aimee Anthony.

a blow to the head

I've been meaning to post this for awhile. The photo above is one I took of my father's silhouette in the foreground with our family business burning behind him. I was the one who received the call in the middle of the night that it was on fire. When we first got there, it was small and in the back of the building. My father was even joking about what trouble it'll be to bring in someone to fix the roof.
  Then there was a loud roaring sound. Gas-fire.
  My family watched it burn to the ground for over 11 hours with flames up to 70 feet in the air.  At one point, the police moved everyone about 300 meters back and the heat was still too hot to not avert your face.  I experienced first-hand what it was like to be horrorstruck and have the local media there with cameras.
I wonder if my emotions and senses will ever be as extraordinarily alert as they were that night. It was completely out of my control and all I could do was watch.
its awfulness
its awe-fullness
and take pictures.

My home away from home

I'm a homebody who's never home. A mountain girl, living in a city, who belongs in a field. A typical gemini with varying interests. Many of the people I have photographed over the years, I've established tight bonds with. One in particular, I consider my 2nd family. They invite me to frolic on their beautiful farms as a friend whenever I have the time.

I'm so lucky to have them in my life.

Cult, tribe or commune, call them whatever you like. I know them individually (my best friend lives in the community) and as a group and am in constant awe of their dedication and beautiful lifestyle. Sure, I may not agree with everything they say, but that doesn't mean I can't learn a lesson or two and be a friend.  They have a right to live the way they do and I'm always glad to see people champion against the grain.

I do believe they have found something (a connection, community, and compassion) that our superficial, selfish Capitalist society has lost.  Every time I visit, city living and popular culture's luster just floats away, unmissed.  It's not just about visiting a farm, its about being around and witnessing a community founded on love, acceptance, and human goodness. 

"The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it.  Create your own."  - Tuesdays with Morrie.

The Circus Comes to Town

Speaking of the circus... Barnum and Bailey's Circus came to D.C. about a month ago at the Verizon Center. Given my history, I just HAD to go! I'm not too fond of arena shows. I prefer the small, arty one-ring circuses, but I really liked some of the BB performers.



Cutest clown ever? He attached himself to my backpack.

Meet Me in St. Louis!

This may be my favorite image. At the time it was taken, I was in a very euphoric place. I was 18 and had traveled to St. Louis to join a circus. It was one of the first times in my life I felt completely independent and free. And it almost didn't happen. My mom had her foot down that I should not go after I repeatedly tried to convince her that I'd be taken care of and had a place to stay. After about a week of pouting, my father secretly helped me buy a ticket and a few days later I was off. In reality, though, I didn't have a place to stay and no one was there to watch after me. I just assumed I'd sleep in a tent on the premises after I met up with my contact. I didn't calculate, however, that St. Louis would have a record breaking heat-wave that year and the circus would sit on top of black asphalt.
  I spent my first day falling in love with St. Louis. I walked around the arch, fell asleep in the park, watched gigantic trees float down the Mississippi, admired St. Louis' amazing old-world architecture and rode the light-rail. I was traveling alone and felt completely at peace with the world. Strangers kept speaking to me out of curiosity and expressing worry for my safety in St. Louis, especially a cop I would see every night at 2 a.m., after the last show and cleanup.  St. Louis is dangerous, apparently.
   But I can't say I was completely alone.  I'll never forget the musicians, who were the first performers to warm up to me.  Certainly, I owe a lot to Hovey (78 years young at the time!), the juggler, who took me under his wing, and with whom I spent my afternoons with in his RV hiding from the heat, playing cards, and talking endlessly about Ancient Egypt.  Also, the lively, liberated manager, the somewhat vain but sweet clown, the crazy and mesmerizingly good-looking Cossacks, the Mer-man (who would throw water at me) and the two Mexican women I met in Soulard.
  I moved to the historic Soulard neighborhood when the heat was unbearable and all the performers moved into hotels. I was broke, and there was a hostel I stayed at that was empty except for 2 Mexican, who bought me cream sodas everyday and took me to their cousin's wedding. I was in love with the neighborhood and its strange isolation. I thought I might never leave it.
  One night, when I was coming back from the circus, I found by a gate the book The Outsiders. I stayed up all night reading it and assumed there was a higher reason I stumbled upon it. Once finished, I called my friend Sarah and had one of the best conversations we've probably ever had. I sat on top of a rusty, old coke bottle machine, petting a black cat and just broke everything apart. I was contemplating so many things, feeling so alive and questioned the relevance of experiencing them alone.  I knew what I was doing was different.

And what's the relevance of me writing all of this? Well, when the Washington Post reporter asked me why I do photojournalism, specifically photographing subcultures, I had a hard time explaining and kept tripping over my own words. I just wanted to tell her the story of joining the circus one Summer.  I think its easy after such an experience to want to dedicate your life to a camera or pen.

List #5:

1. The Man Who Planted Trees by Jean Giono. I found this book a few months ago in Blagden Alley. Some librarian deity wants me to read more.

2. Another reason i do what i do... i heart Stephan Hawkin!

My Mom (and you) Now Knows...

...that I photograph Sadomasochists in DC.

The Washington Post interviewed Aimee Anthony and me about working with Annie Liebovich and ended up writing a little about us:
ARTICLE
* excerpt: "Williams became fascinated by subcultures and people with lives on the fringes. She did long documentary projects about a cult in rural Virginia and vagabonds in Denmark, and she photographed sadomasochists in Northeast Washington. She learned to keep her eyes open, take risks, be more accepting."

I called my mom to see if she got her copy and what she thought.  Her response: "Yes - you photograph sadomasochists??"  And then came the dead, face down in an alleyway speech.  Funny thing is, I was in an alley, getting ready to photograph Fight Club DC, when someone asked me if I wanted to go into a building that had a red glow coming from the windows (ok, maybe mom has a point...). The person who invited me was an N.G. photographer and old friend.  He knew what was happening inside and that he couldn't even get in the door without a girl.  He ended up not shooting much - this was one situation where being a female photographer made all the difference.
  The 'be more accepting' part of the article was a bit out of context of what I actually said.  See, I used to be paralyzingly shy (which is funny, since I come from a giant family).  I've always been interested in photographing different cultures, sub-cultures, but really didn't take the photos I wanted until I understood the importance of being open and vulnerable to what you're shooting.  If you want to communicate an effective story and have your subject be open and honest in front of your lens, you will gain little from being the fly on the wall.  It wasn't easy photographing sadomasochists the first time - it's a strange, intimidating world for an admittedly naive country-girl from Georgia.  Before we went in, I may have eyed the pepper spray on my keychain once or twice.  As it turns out, everyone there was quite friendly & nice.  One leather-clad woman gave me a card, so I could email photos - it was her real estate business card with a photo of her with perfectly coiffed hair in a grey business suit.

You Got Eyes.

wandering wonders! wondering wanderers!
Where did I go?

It has come to my attention that I still actually have repeat visitors to this blog, despite the fact that I've managed to neglect it for nearly a year

I've mostly disappeared because of work, work, work and school. In a few days I will graduate. Imagine that!
Last summer was a whirlwind and the week before school started my family's business was involved in a gas fire and burned to the ground. That's initially what set me back with posting and we're still picking up the pieces, so to say.

Nevertheless, a new random LIST:

1. record player. I have one now. hooray!

2. "Lolita" soundtrack record. Is amazing and I need to stop listening to it.

3. Alarm Dancing.
I'd marry him. quite possibly.

4. My blog was blogged about.

5. I named my school's photojournalism website (and I kinda want to steal it back :).

6. Giant Particle Accelerator.
Just another reason why Carpe Diem never gets old.

7. Oceans won't freeze.