mollie | corbett | photography

Thursday, April 11, 2013

mollie | corbett | photography's brand-spankin'-new "Contact Sheet" (newsletter)--The Macro

Mollie Corbett Photography's brand-spankin'-new "contact sheet" (newsletter), The Macro, is coming soon to your inbox with special photography offers, useful tips for improving your shooting skills, as well as fun announcements about upcoming events related to mollie | corbett | photography and her professional network. Sign up NOW to get in early. If you're ready for your closeup, join the Macro TODAY!

Git on it! Click here to join the Macro now!

Sunday, April 7, 2013

The Top 10 Things Kids Want Their Parents to Do with Them

http://www.handsfreemama.com/2012/05/16/what-a-hands-free-summer-looks-like/

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

"A picture's worth a thousand clients."

Just about everyone has a digital camera, but most people aren’t able to create professional quality work with them. You may not be a photographer, but you probably do need photographs to showcase your business visually to potential clients.

I am a professional commercial and fine art digital photographer offering quality, affordable photography to elevate visual presence online, in print, and on the walls of your business. I work with my clients to beautifully and artistically capture the moment at hand so that they can focus on doing their business.

Marketing decision-makers needing to update their business web and print presence or capture a large special event with clients and sponsors will appreciate my 3-business-day turnaround, web access for print purchase, a complimentary social media photo album, and a DVD containing both high- and low-resolution versions of all their professionally-edited photos, both in full RGB color and in black and white.

I have successfully-photographed over 150 businesses in the Shreveport-Bossier region and currently am contracted as the official commercial photographer for Downtown Shreveport.

A picture’s worth a thousand clients.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

My FIRST art exhibit...S by M: Real | Sensual | Male

So, I am a photographer by trade, and I just opened my very first art show this past Friday night at a terrific little bar called The Korner Lounge in Downtown Shreveport. The exhibit will be up for the entire month of February. Stop in and see it before it's gone forever. Each piece is $98, and half the show is already sold! In the meantime, here is a sampling of custom 8x12 vignettes from the photo shoots of ten models that did not make it onto the wall but are still gorgeous and available for purchase at $20 each! You can also see the vignettes at the mollie | corbett | photography facebook page, and you won't hurt my feelings AT ALL if you LIKE my page! ;-)

Friday, January 6, 2012

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 4--Favorite Color

Teal! I am SO into this color lately. I found this gem among a local consignment dealer's shelves. Such a find!

Thursday, January 5, 2012

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 3--Clouds

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 2--What I Wore

First meeting out of the house since before Christmas and cold symptoms. Feelin' fine, yessir...

She said No

My heart breaks for them, but what's tragic to me is not the embarrassment of the moment. I know from experience the heat of that eventually fades to nothing. People forget, move on.

It's the competitive fairytale aspect of the moment that makes my skin crawl. People really have no idea of the commitment to which they are agreeing. We spend more time working out the marketing of it. "How cool would it be to..." Nauseating.

Within five months of marriage, my husband became seriously ill with a near-rupture of his appendix and a several week hospital stay. Still, even without these rare catastrophes, there are bills and schedules and preferences and compromises and duties and disappointments and struggles and heart breaks. For those who approach the experience authentically, there can be joy, intimacy, bonding, friendship, trust, elation, familiarity, sharing, and love. These are the just the beginning of what we risk when we ask and say yes. It's a contract of agreement through the years, meant to last but often doesn't. Can we at least dignify it with a more appropriate exchange than the kiss cam at a sporting event?

Life is not a series of fairytale moments. Surely, we know this. Why do we punctuate the major transitions of our lives in such pithy, shallow, and irreverent ways? Do you really want to ask someone to be with you, beside you, forever if you aren't already sure of what their response will be? In a sporting event? On camera? On YouTube?!

Sunday, January 1, 2012

30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 1--Self-Portrait

I feel like poop and spent most of the day wrapped in a cuddly blanket and browsing pinterest. I did have a burst of energy out of a desire to take a shower in a clean shower. I nearly killed us all by mixing cleaners. This is the fault of soap scum, the giant irony of the bathroom--residue that gets left behind while making us all "clean." So I got my clean shower, but I did in fact use soap. Curses.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Making...moments

I'm a big fan of making memories, those giant defining moments that keep us warm when loved ones are far away or gone to rest. I also love making moments out of life's little minutae, a term I once heard my friend Ronda use a million years ago when we worked together at the Chamber in Norfolk. Ronda--who's very good at making moments--said to me, "Life is minutae."

Too right, Ronda.

So here are two shots of my morning, little ways I go about creating moments out of the my daily routine. It's true: I'm on Christmas vacation with my loves, Charlie and Jackson, but these are commonly seen on Saturday and Sunday as well. No real occasion.

Just making moments.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

"Shooter"

It's been well-documented how I feel about church-going, but that does little to express the meaning, joy, and spiritual encouragement and instruction I find everyday in my world.

The story of "Shooter" the elk is a fine example of what constitutes "church" for me as I take my place here in the First Church of Chez Corbett, coffee mug and laptop close at hand. Several years ago, after graduating from Seminary, if I had pursued doctoral work (instead of having our baby boy four years ago), I would have focused on how moments like these in our existence constitute a brief encounter between realms--the numinous reaching toward the finite to express perfect, pure love. This kind of simple tenderness...I choose to believe it is a great sign.

Check it out here.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Makin' Merry

Back in April, the Mister and I decided to move into a much smaller place to ease up some of the paycheck-to-paycheck we'd been feeling around the 1st and the 15th. After much research and cost/benefit analysis, we settled on a new home in a really nice apartment community closer to downtown but still more affordable than the money pit of a rental house to which we'd become enslaved.

I knew I'd love it. One bathroom. YES! Two-car, attached garage. YES!! First-floor apartment. YES!!! The model apartment above us with no shared walls. YES!!!! What's NOT to love?!

Turns out going from roughly 1600 square feet to less than 950 takes a bit of getting used to, but i think we've finally hit our stride. Part of what I love most about living here are the wonderful amenities: pet-sitting, package holding and delivery, concierge service for drycleaning, etc. These are all fantastic.
And then there's the community itself.

Listen, I know whenever people are involved there are bound to be irritations and compromises. Believe me...we have those. BUT we also have a home that decorates for the holidays so beautifully that--as we rounded the corner into the community after a long trip to Virginia and North Carolina for Thanksgiving, the gorgeous lights and tree all lit up for twilight nearly took my breath away. It was so unexpected and so beautiful. From the backseat, Jackson chimed in, " I like your Christmas!"

We're lucky...we have a view of the community tree from our porch! We brings me to the purpose of this post. This Thursday night is our community Christmas party. I know this because our friend and neighbor Tiffani knows that we never use our front door and makes sure to tell us when we need to check for a community-wide door-hanger announcement. Well...there will also be a porch/balcony decorating contest, and the prize winner gets up to $100 off next month's rent. I wasn't nearly as excited about this until our maintenance director, Mike, informed me that all the decorated porches go into a hat for a random drawing to win that hundred bucks.

Game ON!!!

Here's what I've got to show for my efforts this afternoon.

Wish us luck. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Y'all. Won't you be my neighbor?

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Christmas, On Purpose

“The magic of Christmas lives in your heart!” Push the button on stuffed Hallmark Santa's right hand, and that's what he'll tell you.

But what if you're lonely and your heart is broken with loss? Where does that magic go to hide, so elusive and slippery in its gloomy getaway?

Four years ago, almost to the day, I was unpacking moving boxes with not one single friend in the new town I swore I'd NEVER call home. Charlie was throat deep in his new Air Force recruiting assignment that kept him at the office and away from us for half the clock and then some. Jackson was just barely seven months old and dependent on me for...everything. We'd driven four days with three drugged cats across a thousand southern miles to a house we rented site-unseen. The morning we pulled out, I said goodbye to my mother in the driveway of our longest-running family home, and we both clung to each other and wept for the miles about to creep up and camp out between us. I was devastated.

In an act of sheer desperation for happiness, I scheduled a piano tuner to bring our spinet back to life. He came, was cordial, and set to his task. As we made conversation during his work, his kindness to me overwhelmed my heart, and—in my dire loneliness—I softly cried. Even then, in the awkwardness of a stranger's tears, his tenderness toward a hurting one was unrelenting. I will always remember that sweet old man.

About every other day, I would receive a tiny, delicate note from a friend back home—Rita, one of those God-fearing grandmas who's really good at feeding your belly and your soul. She writes in stream of consciousness in a lovely lilting cursive. Little details of hearth and home, every bit as charming as she always is. Rita's letters were life and light, and then one day she called.

I'd been trying to summon the will to decorate our home for the holidays. Jackson was sitting up but not much else, which is funny because I was sort of the same boat with him. I just couldn't bring myself to open a single box of decorations. I missed my family back home and was convinced I couldn't do Christmas without them.

Gently, Rita urged me to set aside loneliness and grief, just for a few minutes. “Pack up that precious baby and take him with you to the Goodwill. Find you a little somethin' Christmasy. It dudn't have to be big or exspensive, just a little somethin'. Put it right over your sink in the kitchen so you'll see it when you're doin' the dishes and remember that I love you and that Christmas will come back in time.”

I scooped up little Jackson and set out for the Goodwill as soon as we hung up. We walked the household goods aisles, searching. I saw it, just as clearly as I had heard the sound of Rita's sweet voice. A tiny little tealight village Barber Shop with snow painted on its bottom edges and the hint of Christmas in its rounded corners. I knew instantly that I would take it home with me. I had such a weird instant attachment to it, as though Rita had secretly come down to Louisiana and placed it there carefully just for me, the way we “hide” easter eggs for our children and then walk openly toward each hiding place and all but point to the hidden treasures because we are just as invested in them finding what's hidden as they are.

I went back a week later and found the Santa votive holder, and I felt the lifeless shape of Christmas twitch and stir in that dark chamber, my broken heart.